


maybe some people are meant to be in the same story

by delta_trevino



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, BokuAka Week, Boyfriends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Florists, Flowers, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Leather Jackets, M/M, Motorcycles, Moving In Together, Sleepy Kisses, Tattoos, Tickle Fights, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, i think I'm in love with you, yes they are soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25640614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delta_trevino/pseuds/delta_trevino
Summary: Bokuto-san and AGHAAASHI fluff week 2020. Just our favourite dorks in fluffy scenarios to honour their soulmateness.1. bookstore au2. moving in!3. florist/tattoo shop au4. clothes sharing :)5. cuddling (touch)6. 5+1 and hanahaki (angsty)7. hurt/comfort8. fantasy - mermen au9. royal au10. free day! (lil possessive bokuto and lots of kisses)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio (minor), Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou (minor), Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi (minor)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 274
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	1. "when people fall in love, they burst into flames." - jandy nelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto gets roped into visiting a used bookstore, and starts reading a trail of books intrigued by gray penned comments and notes, made by one (1) mysterious Akaashi Keiji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey readers! i'm so excited for bokuaka fluff week 2020, ahh! welcome to my contribution.
> 
> Scales of Intensity:
> 
> Angst: 0/10  
> Fluff: 7/10  
> Lime/Lemon: 1/10 (they hold hands? *gasp* scandalous)

Bokuto ran his hands over the spines of the paperbacks like a child, settling on a blue hardcover book near the end and pulling it out dramatically. 

Kuroo snorted. “I told you, there’s no secret passage. I would’ve found it by now.” Bokuto glared at him and defeatedly tucked the book back in. It’s one of the thousands in the used bookstore, books covering just about every inch. Paperbacks, hardcovers, ones that have been taped so many times that Bokuto can’t read the titles, others that are practically new, dozens upon dozens. 

Bokuto pulled out the book next to the one he just tucked in, visibly deflating when nothing happened. 

“Bro,” Kuroo sighed. Bokuto had been dragged here by the one and only, Kuroo the nerd, claiming he needed new reading material. On the other hand, Bokuto periodically picked up a mainstream adventure book and read it incrementally, slow to the point where he forgot the first chapter before he hit the main problem.

“Go look in the second aisle over there,” Kuroo said without lifting his eyes from the book titles. “Find something.” 

Bokuto was about to complain when Kuroo glared at him. He pressed his lips together, they had to be quiet. Classical music was playing softly, bells jingling whenever the door was opened. The bookstore itself radiated peacefulness, filled with yellow light and plants in every crack where a book wasn’t.

Wood creaked under Bokuto’s feet as he ducked into the narrow aisle, scanning the spines. Contemporary coming of age books it seemed like. Bokuto recognized the name John Green as he skimmed other titles, fidgeting and reading the backs. However, they weren’t much help. How was knowing the book was a New York Times bestseller going to inform him of the actual plot of the book?

“Hey Bo,” Kuroo appeared at the end of the aisle, carrying three books. “This is the third aisle. Anyways, Suga-san here can assist you. He’s the nerdiest nerd there ever was.” 

Suga, a soft silver-haired employee, grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from you.” Kuroo disappeared, probably to find more dead trees with ink laced up with string.

“So, I’m Suga.” The employee turned his attention to Bokuto. 

“I’m Bokuto,” Bokuto responded, smiling broadly back before glancing helplessly at the books. 

“Looks like you’re looking at young adult kind of romance?” Suga examined the shelves. “What are you interested in? 

“Honestly,” Bokuto huffed, “I don’t know. I’m not that much of a reader.”

Suga laughed respectively. “You’ve got many grand adventures ahead of you then. In general, what do you like?”

Bokuto racked his brain. “Um, books with jokes and happy endings usually. And no Shakespeare.” Bokuto shuddered from the memory of his English class. He was infinitely glad second year was over, it had been brutal.

“Alright.” Suga’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. “So let’s go with something less traditional. How do you feel about adventure? Romance? Horror?”

“Uh.” Bokuto was out of his depth. “Adventure is good. I like that. Romance is okay, but it’s alright if that’s not the main focus. Horror’s alright.” 

“Perfect, okay. Wait here, I’ve got two good ones in the back.” Bokuto nodded. Suga reappeared with two books on top of each other momentarily. 

“So I’ve got The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and Turtles All the Way Down. They’re both teen fiction, nice if you’re getting back into reading.” Bokuto picked up the first one. 

“I think I’ll try this one.” He’d heard about this one from Kuroo. Something about it being great and everyone should read it before they die or go blind. Bokuto promptly thanked Suga, and paid, finding Kuroo outside, eyeing more books than the five he already had. 

“Kuroo!” Bokuto yelled as he thumbed the first page of the book open, horrified. His friend was on the opposite side of Bokuto’s room on the floor, completely absorbed in another book. 

“What,” Kuroo responded, annoyed.

“There’s writing in this!” Bokuto flipped through a few pages. There was deft, sketchy writing in margins done by a gray pen. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo said unfazed. “It’s a used bookstore Bo. People draw in the books all the time and then trade them in.” 

Oh. 

“Can I write in it?” He grinned at the possibility.

“You could. But generally it has to be related to the book. Not like what you had for lunch or something. And go easy.”

“I know that.” Bokuto picked up a black pen and hovered it over the inside cover when he realized he didn’t know what to write. The gray pen had left a list of books by the same author, a quote, and a doodle of stars along with a name.  _ Akaashi Keiji - May 14, 2018. _

Bokuto scratched his name down, under Akaashi’s.  _ Bokuto Koutarou - June 9, 2020.  _

As he got drawn into the plot, he scanned Akaashi’s grey marks subconsciously. They were sparse at first, growing until they covered page numbers, decorating the edges of each page. Bokuto learned in between doodles of scenes that Akaashi underlined character and plot points, arrows led to margins with thoughts, and that circles around quotes were rare and for emphasis. Very funny, or beautiful, or applicable ones that needed to be stressed, Bokuto only found a handful. The margins were full of comments on the character’s actions, author’s word choice, concentrated jot notes and light sketches. 

The dry humour in the book was continued in the grey pen, witty jokes and clever allusions. Bokuto wrote quips back periodically, most of the time underlining Akashi's comments and doodling absentmindedly. His hands got used to the weight of the book as he sunk into the story, deciphering the gray words and grinning along the way. It felt like reading the book parallel to someone else, real time commentary that was just as interesting as the book itself.

Bokuto surprised himself when he finished the book after six days. Akaashi and his gray pen left a book recommendation at the back, Looking for Alaska by John Green. 

Bokuto surprised himself again when he found himself in the used book store with Suga, specifically asking for Looking for Alaska. Suga grinned and traded Looking for Alaska for A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy for Bokuto. Flipping over the front cover, he checked for Akaashi’s name. Bingo. 

Looking for Alaska wasn’t as funny as Hitchhiker’s, and Akaashi’s commentary reflected that. It was deeper, picking through the character arcs and circling good metaphors and passages. Bokuto appreciated this John Green guy, even though his writing style was different. Not as interesting to Bokuto, but the gray pen circled a lot of quotes, emphasizing them, so Bokuto figured John Green was talented if Akaashi liked him that much.

One of Us is Lying. 

The Fault in Our Stars. 

It.

A Very Large Expanse of Ocean.

Percy Jackson.

Eleanor and Park. 

Bokuto found himself going back to the book store every week, sometimes twice to pick up a new book. He would have never considered picking up any of them, save for Akaashi’s recommendations. 

The gray pen got him through It’s scary scenes and the depressing end of more than a few romance books he may have ugly cried for. Tear stains mangled the ink, Akaashi also having marked places where his own tears had fallen. Bokuto loved the jokes in Percy Jackson, even though he was probably a little old for the series, laughing out loud every chapter with Akaashi’s grey pen, favouring the words “dam”, “schnist”, and “nobody”.

Kuroo had been floored when Bokuto had pulled out The Fault in Our Stars, interested in this so-called “Akaashi Keiji who has done the impossible, converting Bokuto into a reader”. And Bokuto had to admit he would like to know a little more about the boy reading these books before him. Who listed character traits, called out any mistakes loudly, drew hearts around romance scenes and broken ones around tragedies. His marks were endearing, like a side adventure only Bokuto knew about.

About two months after finishing a Hitchhiker’s Guide, Bokuto was scanning the shelves for a book called The Hate U Give, the latest recommendation from Akaashi Keiji. He was wandering around, worried someone else had already taken it out since it wasn’t in aisle three. Bokuto rounded the corner to find a boy perched on a counter, reclining against yet another wall of book stacks and eyes crescented as he concentrated on the book, immersed in another world. 

He looked up, startled at Bokuto’s footsteps. Lips parted slightly in surprise, a pen poised in his right hand that he tucked behind his ear.

“Hi.” Bokuto just really had a talent for conversation. 

“Hi,” the boy greeted, sliding off the counter. He was tall, on the side of lanky, and his aura radiated quietness.

“What are you reading?” Bokuto asked after a second, bothered by the contrast of his voice that was interrupting the silence of the book store. The boy blinked at the question, as if startled, and then raised the closed book while stepping forwards. There was a paragraph on the front instead of a title, and a design of multicoloured lines caught Bokuto’s eyes.

“I’ll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson.” The book was flipped over, held out to Bokuto, description up. Bokuto took it with care, eyes skimming the synopsis. Two twins, NoahandJude, who grew from inseparable children to intense rivals. 

“Is it good?” Bokuto asked the raven haired boy, reading the cover.  _ We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story. _

“Oh, yes,” the boy breathed. “It’s written so metaphorically, in this way that’s captivating. I love it.” The boy’s mouth quirked into a little smile, clearly thinking back to a quote or a scene in the book Bokuto hadn’t read. 

“I’ll put it on my to be read list.” Bokuto could make an exception from Akaashi’s list to try this. He held out the book to hand back. The boy made no move to take it, instead pulling the pen from behind his ear and shaking his head. 

“You can read it now if you’d like to,” he said. “I was marking that one but I’ve actually already read another copy of it about a million times.” 

“Oh.” Bokuto ran a hand down the front. “Okay.” He flipped open the cover. Ah. Yes.  _ Akaashi Keji - June 31, 2020. _ Bokuto grinned.

Wait. That was today. Bokuto thought for once, struggling to put a puzzle together. 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“Akaashi Keiji?”

“Huh?” The boy looked surprised, taking a step backward. 

“Is your name Akaashi Keiji?” When the boy nodded slightly, Bokuto felt a thrill at finally meeting him. He explained hurriedly, “Um, I picked up a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and followed your chain of recommendations. Your comments are the best!” Bokuto grinned. “I’m Bokuto Kouratou.”

“Oh,” Akaashi said faintly, a pink tint on his neck. “I’m Akaashi Keiji, although I suppose you know that.” 

“Yeah,” Bokuto smiled. “It’s kinda cool, I finally get to meet you after reading all your comments.

“What did you think of them?” Akaashi asked, ducking his head. 

“I loved them! They were so smart and funny and it was like we were kind of reading the book together but in code or something.” Bokuto recalled the hundreds of margins he’d read full of grey pen. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi smiled, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t think anyone would really follow them.”

“Akaashi! Of course they would. It made the boring parts less boring and the interesting parts more interesting!” Bokuto grinned, hoping Akaashi wouldn’t be offended without the use of an honorific. In his head, Bokuto had always associated the grey marks with Akaashi, not Akaashi-san or Akaashi-chan and saying anything else would be weird. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Akaashi smiled. “I’ve only marked half of that one, just to let you know.” He gestured towards I’ll Give You The Sun loosely. 

“That’s okay,” Bokuto reassured. “Tell me about it now.”

Akaashi hesitated. “No, no spoilers. I’ll be here for the next few days, so we can talk about it after you’re done.” 

Bokuto ripped through the book. 

“Akaashiii!” Bokuto rushed over to the reader the next day in the evening, who was sitting on the counter like last time and reclining against the shelf of colourful books. He had another book in his lap, focused on his signature grey pen writing a note. Akaashi’s chin jerked up at his name, pressing a finger to his lips instinctively. 

“Sorry,” Bokuto grinned, leaning on the wooden counter and placing I’ll Give You The Sun down. “I finished it,” he whispered. 

“Hi Bokuto-san,” Akaashi smiled. “That was fast. Did you like it?”

“Yeah, the time skips were interesting. I got kinda confused though. And the second half got boring without your comments, so I wrote some of my own.” Bokuto held up a black pen, which he had forgotten to put down in his rush to get here before the sunset and it was too late.

“I’m really glad you liked it,” Akaashi picked up the book. “It’s my favourite.”

“I can see why,” Bokuto grinned, and then prompted, “look at the note I wrote on the last page.”

Akaashi’s nimble fingers opened the book from the back, scanning Bokuto’s messier black writing. 

_ Talk to me about the book over ice cream? _

Akaashi’s eyes widened. He scribbled something back hurriedly and handed the book back to Bokuto, crossing his arms and suppressing a smile. Bokuto’s eyes jumped to the word, and he beamed.

_ Sure. _

Their conversation flowed between the different books, and then characters, to Bokuto’s volleyball interest and Akaashi’s love for writing his own stories. How long Akaashi had been reading (about a gazillion years), and how Kuroo got Bokuto into reading in between comparing ice cream flavours. The consensus was anything with chocolate was superior. Akaashi smiled, flustered when Bokuto mentioned following Akaashi’s trail of recommendations for two months, and linked their pinkies together. Bokuto beamed, a second later throwing Akaashi’s hand into the air so he could catch it in his own and fold their fingers together. 

“This okay?” Bokuto asked when Akaashi looked towards the ground. 

Akaashi nodded, the setting sun enhancing his blush. He mumbled something. 

“Sorry?” Bokuto worried he was being too forward. He stopped grasping Akaashi’s hand so tight. 

“It’s okay Bokuto-san,” Akaashi spoke up assuringly and tightened his grip, running a thumb over Bokuto’s knuckles. Bokuto’s mouth parted in a little “o”. 

“If it’s okay with you,” Akaashi added quickly.

“Same. I mean yes, yeah it’s okay. It's, yeah. More than okay,” Bokuto rushed to confirm. Akaashi laughed musically, and Bokuto smiled back at Akaashi’s grin.

“Same.” Akaashi tilted his head, a little breathy. “More than okay.”

“I think I need to circle another part,” Bokuto mentioned, clicking the pen in his right pocket once. It could stand to be circled a few times, since he certainly hoped it was applicable and important to now.

“Which one?” Akaashi asked, amused, the ghost of his smile still there. 

“The front cover.” 

_ We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell, I'll Give You The Sun is one of my favourite books. It's so, so, so beautiful and I've read it way too many times. If y'all know about any books like it, please recommend!  
> Books mentioned in this oneshot:
> 
> \- I'll Give You The Sun by the one and only Jandy Nelson  
> \- A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, Eoin Colfer and Thomas Tidholm  
> \- Turtles All the Way Down by John Green  
> \- One of Us is Lying by Karen M. McManus  
> \- The Fault in Our Stars by John Green  
> \- It by Stephan King  
> \- A Very Large Expanse of Ocean by Tehereh Mafi  
> \- Percy Jackson by Uncle Rick  
> \- Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell
> 
> thank you for reading! see y'all tomorrow :)


	2. “i fell in love with you the way you fall asleep, slowly, and then all at once.” - john green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of Bokuto and Akaashi at the end of their first day of moving in to their new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scales of Intensity:
> 
> Angst: 0/10  
> Fluff: 7.5/10  
> Lime/Lemon: 2/10

“Can you bring me the two labelled kitchen?” Akaashi Keiji calls over his shoulder, setting down his own cardboard box on their counter. If he’s not mistaken, the utensils should be in here, and Akaashi makes a mental note of that so he can make breakfast tomorrow. Indian takeout remains sit on their wooden table, the scent now spreading in their small, new apartment.

“Sure!” His boyfriend, Bokuto Koutarou says from the brightly lit front hallway. Akaashi can’t believe he still has energy. Even with Kuroo, Kenma, and an overeager Hinata helping them move in, he’s personally exhausted. 

Bokuto lops over, easily carrying two stacked cardboard boxes like it’s nothing. They nudge Akaashi’s box as he sets them down, exhaling. 

“Anything else?” Bokuto looks to him for instruction. There’s still so much to do. Everyone else really helped with moving the boxes from their old respective houses to here, but Hinata probably put the plant box in their bathroom and the books in the kitchen, and Akaashi still couldn’t find his phone charger. 

The digital clock on the oven indicates it’s 10:43. Akaashi shakes his head. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Finally!” The chair scraps against floor tiles as Bokuto pulls it out, slouching onto it. “I’m tired Kaashi.”

“Me too.” Akaashi leans on the counter, an open box with cups and mugs next to him. “But today was good.” 

“Today was great.” Bokuto is up and out of the chair again, just as sporadic as his personality, and wrapping his arms around Akaashi from behind. Akaashi melts into the embrace, leaning back. “We got a home.”

“Crazy,” Akaashi murmurs. It’s crazy to him there’s a key in his pocket, identical to one Bokuto has, to their very own apartment. It’s a little small, and perhaps a fixer-upper with some chipped paint in the living room, but Akaashi already loves it. 

“Tomorrow we should go grocery shopping and unpack the living room and kitchen. Oh, and our clothes too,” Akaashi notes. His eyes drift to the window on the other side of the table, where it’s practically pitch black save for the traffic lights and cars below them.

“Sure,” Bokuto agrees. “I think your parents wanted to stop by tomorrow or the next day too to say hi and probably bring a housewarming gift.”

Akaashi had forgotten about that. “Right. Hinata said he’ll come by with his boyfriend soon too.” The two couples lived a few blocks apart, and Hinata had already offered to show them around this week.

“Ah. Kageyama?” Akaashi could sense Bokuto scrunching his nose behind him.

“Mhmm.”

“He’s intimidating.” Heh. 

“Kou, you’re intimidating to a lot of people too.” But after his loudness diluted, Bokuto was anything but intimidating. Just a giant teddy bear with mood swings. 

“But Kageyama never smiles.” 

“I told Hinata that too actually. He said that even if it seems like Kageyama’s thinking or anything he’s just being stupid and that we should challenge him to a race.” Akaashi recalls Hinata saying that, and the endearment laced in his words.

“Huh,” Bokuto thinks out loud, “maybe I will.” 

Akaashi nods, tilting his head back. There’s white noise from the traffic outside, and Akaashi is lulled by Bokuto’s breathing, in sync with the chest behind him. Now that he’s stopped moving, the tiredness is really catching up to him. 

“Thank you,” Bokuto says suddenly. 

"Hmm?” Akaashi questions. 

“Thank you for moving in with me,” Bokuto reaches a hand up to play with Akaashi’s hair. “You’re the best.”

Akaashi remembers when Bokuto asked him about moving into their own apartment. Bokuto had been fidgeting non-stop the entire day, finally blurting it out during dinner at an outdoor restaurant in the middle of spaghetti. Akaashi had kissed him, right there, in front of all the passersby and replied breathlessly, “yes”, like Bokuto had just offered him the world. 

In a way, he had. Now they had their own little bubble, a place for Akaashi and Bokuto, Koutarou and Keiji.

“Thank you for asking, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, just like in high school when Bokuto always, always needed a setter for volleyball. He’s switched mostly to Koutarou now, but Bokuto has kept the habit of “KAAAAAASSHI!”, and uses “Keiji” almost sparingly.

“Of course ‘kaashi,” Bokuto presses a kiss onto the top of Akaashi’s head. 

Akaashi sighs contentedly, exhaling happiness. Leaning further back onto Bokuto, he feels hands tighten around his waist.

“Love, you’re literally about to fall over,” Bokuto says worriedly. 

“No no, I’m good,” Akaashi insists through a yawn. 

Bokuto shifts, turning Akaashi around and in one fluid motion, scoops him up while grinning. Akaashi wordlessly wraps his legs around Bokuto’s waist and buries his face into Bokuto’s neck. 

“Maybe I’m a little tired,” Akaashi admits, lips mumbling into Bokuto’s skin.

“Maybe.” Bokuto walks under the doorway, ducking to make sure Akaashi doesn’t hit his head, and nudges open their bedroom door with a foot. 

“One sec,” Bokuto says, shifting Akaashi into his right arm and using his left to flick on the light dimly to navigate the sea of boxes sitting on the floor of their bedroom. It’s a strange sight, a fully made bed with columns of cardboard boxes around it.

“Hot,” Akaashi mumbles, half asleep before he realizes what he said. 

The first time Akaashi admitted Bokuto being strong was a turn on, he’d blushed and refused to repeat it. When he finally had, Bokuto’s ego went way up, and Akaashi was suddenly carried a lot more. Now, it was commonplace for Bokuto to pick him up bridal style for fun, throw Akaashi over his shoulder with abandon, or support him like this, Akaashi clinging on, or being pinned against a wall.

“Kaashi!” Bokuto says almost chidingly, but continues carrying Akaashi with only one hand, using the other to scruff his hair lightly.

The mattress dips to accommodate Akaashi being set down gently, which is another thing Akaashi can’t get over. The precision Bokuto can hold him with, like this while peppering kisses over his face, or the intentional caging of both of his wrists with a single hand above Akaashi’s head, rendering him useless.

The tiredness in his bones makes Akaashi already useless as he holds out his hands to Bokuto like he’s asking for a present. An unspoken question asking for cuddles.

Bokuto crosses the room to flick off the lights in an endearing hurry. A slam hits Akaashi’s ears as Bokuto trips on a box and face plants onto the bed. 

“Oof,” Bokuto complains into the covers, before inching towards Akaashi.

“You okay?” Akaashi rolls over. Both of them are still on top of the covers, in their day clothes, but Akaashi can’t bring himself to change that. Bokuto looks up at him, lower lip pushed out. 

“That’s what happens if you rush over a dark room with boxes,” Akaashi tells him patiently. Bokuto huffs. 

“C’mere, love,” Bokuto said after a second. Akaashi shifts closer, into Bokuto’s opened arms that he can tuck himself into. They’re warm and steady and everything Bokuto is, wrapping around Akaashi to form a little cocoon. It’s so right and Akaashi sighs a couple of times in happiness, being content.

Both of their breathing steadies, evening out as Akaashi feels the pull of sleep tug on him stronger and stronger. He tilts his head up to meet Bokuto’s eyes, who presses a forehead kiss on him. Akaashi’s eyes flutter shut at the affection, and he’s so, so glad life put him in this position.

“I love you, Akaashi Keji,” Bokuto whispers, almost as if Akaashi wasn’t supposed to hear that. But he does, and he still feels a little blush rise, even though Bokuto has said those three words countless times.

“I love you too, Bokuto Koutarou,” Akaashi replies back, falling asleep to a press of lips on his forehead again, and the hum of his lover’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for reading! so, im kinda happy with how this one turned out, it's certainly more fluffy then yesterday's and i've got plans for day 5 and 10 :)


	3. "i just think you’re meant to meet some people. I think the universe nudges them into your path." - becky albertalli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A client has requested a yellow acacia flower tattoo, and Akaashi goes to the flower shop next door purely for business purposes. Nothing to do with the vibrant, beaming florist he may have a hypothetical crush on. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scales of Intensity:
> 
> Angst: 0/10  
> Fluff: 7/10  
> Lime/Lemon: 2/10 (?)
> 
> tw: implied needles and pain (for tattoos)

Akaashi Keiji studied his sketchbook, unsatisfied. The drawing stared back at him, all soft lines to form a budding flower cluster peppered with leaves and stems. The client asked for an original, providing him with pictures for references. However, three rough designs after and a more detailed one later, Akaashi still had no desire to turn the drawing into a tattoo.

“Need help?” Daichi, Akaashi’s boss came up behind him. Akaashi nodded, clicking his pen once. He prided himself on his original designs, having finally gained enough experience to be confident about inking them onto clients. But he was a perfectionist, and this sketch of flowers was anything but. 

“Did they say anything about preferences?” Daichi asked from behind Akaashi, leaning on his forearms over the back of the leather couch. It was located in the very back of their shop, whereas stations with tattoo machines and needles, and a receptionist counter occupied the front. Terushima, their designated piercer, was starting to work under bright lights on a client already and Yamaguchi was filling his ink caps up for him.

“Not really.” Akaashi frowned. “And the flashes they gave me were too inconsistent to be any help.” A flash was a pre-drawn tattoo shop design, that you could generally find on the walls. Freehand, their parlour, was no different with dozens of flashes curving on the wall.

“These are flowers, aren’t they?” Daichi pointed loosely to the drawing, a teasing tone. Akaashi ignored it. 

“Yeah, yellow acacias.” Akaashi had searched the web for inspiration too for the yellow flower also known as mimosa flowers. One of the problems with them was that they were like tiny, tight-knit puff balls on stems. They reminded him of popcorn, or tiny balls of sunlight. Very nice in concept, but very hard to capture statically in a drawing or anything permanent.

“Akaashi,” Daichi teased. “There’s a fully functional flower shop across the street where they might have these. Go look, in the name of business.”

Akaashi glared at him. 

“Yeah, in the name of business,” Terushima called, crackling over his tattoo machine. “I bet you’ll come back with a bunch.”

“Akaashi, we all know you’re good at original designs. You don’t need to pretend you can’t draw flowers for an excuse to go see your lover,” Daichi grinned, standing up. 

“He’s not my lover.” Akaashi regretted the day the certain man in question had walked into the tattoo parlour out of curiosity and made Akaashi blush so hard Daichi thought he was sick. The teasing now was relentless.

“Yet,” Yamaguchi admitted. Akaashi bristled at their chagrin over his crush.

“Seems like your problem is solved,” Daichi clapped his hands with finality. “Go and do some recon.”

Akaashi stood up slowly, flipping his sketchbook closed. “Fine.” If they did have yellow acacias, that would be really helpful. Pictures didn’t do the live flowers justice. 

Bells rang out cheerily as Akaashi pulled open the door to the flower shop, Blooming, breathing in the mixed scents of flowers. Freehand was humid and its atmosphere was almost intense, but here breathing was drawn out to take everything in.

“Hey, welcome - oh Akaashi-san!” A little ball of energy bounded up to him. Hinata, an intern, was wearing a green apron and holding clippers in a probably dangerous manner.

“Hi Hinata-kun,” Akaashi greeted, grinning softly although he had been maybe maybe maybe hoping a certain employee would be here today. “Um, you might want to close your clippers.”

Hinata snapped them shut, eyes widening and then he cupped his hands around his mouth. 

“BOKUTO-SAN!” Hinata yelled way too loud for the shop, smiling. Akaashi felt a dusting of pink grow on his cheeks at the name, and then the footsteps rushing towards him. 

A man with spiked hair, bright eyes and almost frantic expression turned the corner to them. His hair, black roots and tips dyed white, was messy and his green apron was holding wilting flowers. Akaashi felt his heartbeat speed up, just as it had for the last month since Blooming had opened and Bokuto had walked into the picture.

“What, Shorty, are you okay?” Bokuto rushed, eyes darting around to spot any danger. He caught Akaashi’s and instantly halted, breaking out into a smile.

“Oh, Hi Akaashi-san!” Bokuto stepped forwards.

“Hi Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greeted, fiddling with his fingers.

“Bokuto-san, I need to finish pruning the roses right now or I’ll be skinned by Konoha tonight. Can you help Akaashi?” Hinata asked innocently. 

“Of course,” Boktuo smiled broadly at Akaashi. “He’s the best.” Akaashi smiled back, feeling those familiar butterflies and pulled out his sketchbook and Hinata bounded away. 

“So, Akaashi-san, what can I do for you?” Bokuto craned his neck over Akaashi’s sketchbook, leaning a little too far into Akaashi’s personal space to be professional. He smelled like the outside, flowers and grass, and a hint of petrichor.

“Akaashi is just fine, Bokuto-san. And I was wondering if you guys would happen to have yellow acacias in stock? I’m looking for inspiration for an original design,” Akaashi debriefed as Bokuto observed his sketches. 

“Woah, you drew these?” Bokuto asked, the same look of awe he had on his face when he first came into Freehand, asking about everything and how it worked and what Akaashi had and why.

“Yeah,” Akaashi ducked his head. He was hesitant to show people his sketchbook, even Teru or Yamaguchi. 

“That’s so cool!” Bokuto bounded down an aisle, motioning for Akaashi to follow. “I think we’ve got them. Yellow acadias have a short season but they’re pretty popular, so we got some more a few days ago.”

Bokuto stopped suddenly, Akaashi almost tripping over him. Humming, Bokuto pulled out a pair of flower clippers and snipped a few dead buds of forget-me-nots, sweeping them into his hands and into a bucket. Intensely concentrated, Bokuto used his hands to prune the rest of the bouquet, nodding when he found it satisfactory. Akaashi indulgently let himself admire Bokuto’s dedication to the flowers, how he gave himself over to any task he had to do without hesitation.

“Sorry bout that,” Bokuto grinned at tucking his flower clippers back away and continued walking. 

“I’m in no rush,” Akaashi found himself saying. “So don’t worry.”

“How’s your tattoo?” Bokuto asked curiously, eyes flicking down to Akaashi’s arm. Right. Last time they had talked, six days ago, not like Akaashi was counting, Akaashi had just gotten one done. 

“It’s doing well.” Akaashi held out his arm. Daichi had done the skyline with an incredible grey wash behind it, mimicking the sky. It was a skyline of his hometown, Tokyo around his neighbourhood. “Daichi’s an expert with designs like this.”

“Is that grey wash?” Bokuto asked. Akaashi was surprised he remembered. 

“Yeah.” Akaashi smiled faintly. “Grey wash for the sky and then just normal black for the buildings.”

Bokuto’s footsteps stilled. Akaashi was about to look up from his tattoo when a yellow flower was shoved in his face, tickling his nose and making Akaashi sputter. “Bokuto-san!”

Bokuto laughed boisterously, holding out the yellow acacia. “Found them.”

Akaashi knew he was blushing, but he forced himself to study the flower. Yellow puffs on thin green stems, very bright and he’d imagine they could bend very easily in the wind. He wanted to capture the fragility, and fleeting beauty in the tattoo, where it could be permanent. 

“Looks like cotton, doesn’t it?” Bokuto brushed a finger over the flowers. 

“And dandelions, the white ones with seeds,” Akaashi noted. He’d done an original design with dandelions a few years ago.

Bokuto nodded vigorously. “You’re gonna need these for a drawing right?” 

“I’ll take a picture,” Akaashi replied, pulling out his phone. 

“No, wait here for a second. We’ve got a few extra,” Bokuto pushed the flower into Akaashi’s hand. Despite his protests, Bokuto repeated what he said before and hurried to the back. Akaashi sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Also, for some reason, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head that Bokuto would look amazing inked. Nevermind that would give Akaashi an excuse to stare at him for hours, or be in close proximity, but the colour of ink against his skin would be so amorous. Alluring. 

“Here.” Bokuto walked up to Akaashi, holding a handful of yellow acacias, wrapped in green ferns and twine. They’re vibrant, just like Bokuto’s smile. “This should help.”

Akaashi and Bokuto both visibly blushed as Akaashi took the flowers. “Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he said softly. “Can I pay for them?”

Bokuto looked horrified, repulsed at the possibility. “No, no, you cannot.” 

“Okay, okay,” Akaashi reassured Bokuto and his horrified face. “I won’t.”

Bokuto smiled easily at that, and looked at the flowers again. “If you can find something to hold them in, they’ll do better in water. I guess you’ll only need them for a few hours but if you have questions feel free to come back or call us,” Bokuto rambled. 

Akaashi glanced at the florist affectionately. He’s so kind to have given Akaashi a small bunch of flowers, when all Akaashi asked for was to see them. He was like the flowers, bright and Akaashi wanted to give something back. To show how much he appreciated the flowers, the flowers through research he learned symbolized friendship and a hidden love.

Bokuto was still rambling, and Akaashi tilted his head to look at him. “Bokuto-san.” Bokuto paused.

“Thank you,” Akaashi smiled again, and before he lost his nerve, pressed his lips to Bokuto’s cheek softly. He spun away, clutching the flowers and his cheeks burning, taking uneven steps towards the door. Shoving his shoulder into the door and exiting onto the street, Akaashi wondered if the other pedestrians could see the butterflies and his heartbeat spilling over onto the sidewalk. 

He didn’t turn around, but if he had, Akaashi would've heard a screech and then another higher screech from a certain redhead, after Bokuto had remembered to breathe.

Akaashi entered the tattoo parlour, still beet red. 

“Success?” Daichi asked smoothly. Akaashi mumbled a “yes”, ignoring Terushima’s shit-eating grin. He crossed the room to find an empty water bottle, one of the nice ones, Fiji, since Daichi’s boyfriend Suga was always bringing water and books from his book store. Measuring the water to the middle, Akaashi nimbly propped up the flowers and set them down at his usual station. 

“Nice.” Yamaguchi looked at them wistfully. “Those are beautiful.”

“Aren’t they.” Akaashi wasn’t talking about the flowers though, rather the boy who gave them to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yellow acacias signify the value of true friendship and are known to indicate a secret love. 
> 
> Y'all I actually did research for this one shot today because I'm pretty oblivious when it comes to tattoo parlors and how their stuff works. Hope I got everything right.
> 
> Jargon:  
> Flash - pre-drawn tattoo shop drawings  
> Grey wash - technique to create shading or pencil drawing look for a tattoo the ink which comprises of varying degrees of grey/black inks that are used to create varying contrasts for a tattoo.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. "cause, frankly, the way i see it, you and me? inevitable." - alexandra braken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi has a habit of shocking Bokuto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scales of Intensity:
> 
> Angst: 0/10  
> Fluff: 6.5/10  
> Lime/Lemon: 1/10
> 
> just for reference, sokudo means speed in japanese :)

Bokuto Koutarou had been dating Akaashi Keiji for a grand total of 63 hours and he was still in shock that they were together.

Like holy shit. Akaashi was reclining on a grass hill, talking casually, a foot away from Bokuto. Exactly like a Ghibli movie, complete with flowers. Bokuto fiddled with handfuls of grass while responding, his gaze lingering on Akaashi’s every move. His brown leather jacket covered in pockets shifting in the wind, eyes flitting around the field, lips parting with each word. 

Like holy shit. 

Holy shit.

_ Shit.  _

He was dating that? Damn, wasn’t he lucky?

Bokuto felt a coil of happiness unravel in his chest as Akaashi swiped at his hair absentmindedly, covering his eyes for a second. He was telling Bokuto about his parents’ mechanic shop, and how he helped out sometimes in the summer or during weekends. 

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked in his usual tone of patience, frowning at his own phone after abruptly pausing in his story.

“Sorry, what did you say Akaashi?” Bokuto internally scolded himself for being distracted. Having a very attractive date was no reason to be staring at the very attractive date and stop listening. Obviously. 

“No, I’m so sorry but my mom just asked me to pick up some ingredients she really needs today,” Akaashi ducked his head. “Can we continue this another day?”

Bokuto went through the emotions of being sad, then pouting, and settling on really happy.

“AKAASHI! You want another date?” Bokuto jumped up onto the field. Akaashi picked himself up, and Bokuto fumbled to help him with a hand. Akaashi took it gratefully, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket.

“I’d like that, Bokuto-san.” A small smile on Akaashi’s face made Bokuto screech internally, his own lips beaming.

“Okay! Let me walk you home?”

“I’d also like that a lot, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto animatedly talked about his own family, his sister’s passion for hockey and his parents’ hobby of making desserts, particularly mochi and daifuku. Akaashi’s footsteps echoed gently on the sidewalk as they closed the distance to his house.

“Wait, Kaashi, it’s getting late.” 9:08. “Is there enough time to make it to the store?”

Akaashi hesitated, contemplating. Bokuto puffed out a breath of air, forming a cloud in the cooling evening air.

“We could go to the store, and then I could walk you home?” Bokuto suggested, perking up at the idea of spending more time together. Akaashi weighed his options.

“Bokuto-san, are you scared of rollercoasters? Or bikes?” Akaashi asked instead of an answer, a hint of mischief in his questions.

“No,” Bokuto scoffed. “I used to be, as a kid but now I love them.” Akaashi grinned.

“I have an idea then. But it’s a surprise.” Akaashi decidedly turned onto the main road of their town, instead of where Bokuto knew his house was. Bokuto scrambled to keep up, pestering Akaashi to tell him what the surprise was. 

Akaashi constantly shocked Bokuto. 

He had been surprised when the setter had first come to Fukurodani, nimble sets and the stamina along with patience to keep up with his demands that he knew were incredibly high. Surprised at how well quiet spoken Akaashi could fit into their starting lineup, and excelled on the court. 

Bokuto had been impressed at how he balanced being on the team of a powerhouse school, his spotless grades and a part time job. Shocked by how he loved horror movies, was kind of a mess with calculus, hated peach water, and was a little OCD when it came to his locker. 

Shocked at Akaashi turning down every girl who confessed to him (about a million), practically ignored Valentine's day, and very, very surprised when Akaashi had said he wouldn’t mind dating a boy. Of course, he’d never been more shocked (in a good way) when Akaashi had actually blushed at Bokuto asking him out, and said yes, yes he wanted to go out, to a very disbelieving Bokuto.

But a motorcycle. 

That was new. Very new.

“Surprise,” Akaashi said almost daringly, walking over to the right side of the garage they had just entered. “This is Sokudo.”

Bokuto was floored as Akaashi pulled out two large helmets resting on silver shelves. The garage itself, seemingly part of Akaashi’s parent’s mechanic store, was covered in metal scraps, tools, and the skeleton of three cars being worked on. The white light in the cold room was probably highlighting Bokuto’s fallen jaw, which he was unable to close. 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto finally managed out. “You’re such a badass!”

Akaashi laughed. “I wouldn’t say that Bokuto-san. Would you mind riding Sokudo with me to pick up the groceries? It will be much faster than walking.”

“Yeah, yes, we have to!” That wasn’t a question. Sokudo was a middle-sized motorcycle, clean like everything else Akaashi owned with a leather seat and silver detailing. It was just - cool. So cool.

“Please wear this.” Akaashi passed him a solid black helmet, already having snapped one on his head. Bokuto wiggled it over his head and fumbled with the strap, impatient.

“Here.” Akaashi reached up with his hands, taking the clasps to fit them together gently. They snapped on, Akaashi’ fingers brushing Bokuto’s chin, and stunning him into silence. 

“Thanks,” Bokuto smiled as Akaashi adjusted the helmet. Akaashi offered him a smile back and pulled off his own brown jacket, muscles contracting on his arms and his shirt riding up a little, not that Bokuto noticed. Or looked. Of course not. 

Akaashi held out the jacket to Bokuto. Every single day Akaashi hadn’t had to wear the school uniform, he wore this. Bokuto felt like it was holy, or he should wash his hands before touching it. “This too.”

Bokuto took it tentatively when Akaashi started giving him a weird look. 

“Don’t you need one?” He asked, shrugging on the jacket. It was a little tight on his shoulders, snug around his waist and upper arms. The smell of grass, wind and mechanic oil were imprinted on it, something Bokuto realized literally shouted Akaashi.

“I’ll be alright.” Akaashi pulled on black gloves, stark against his grey hoodie and jeans. They emphasized his pretty, setter fingers as he flexed his hands over the handles, and threw a leg over Sokudo. “C’mon, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto heard the subtle challenge in Akaashi’s voice, and a thrill of seeing this side of Akaashi went through him. It was akin to the side of him in the last sets of high spirited volleyball games, or the side that had climbed onto a roof during training camp just to see a meteor shower. Bokuto bounded over, and suddenly stopped, waiting for instruction. Reassurance, because he just realized they were going to be very close. 

“I won’t bite.” Akaashi was checking the front of the motorcycle, not meeting Bokuto's eyes. “Wrap your arms around me so you won’t fall off.”

“Okay.” Bokuto hopped on the motorcycle, stepping onto the silver foot support and swinging a leg around. He settled onto the seat, pressed onto Akaashi’s warm back like they were meddling together. “This is so exciting Akaashi, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, and the movies always make it look so cool-”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi called out, his head tucked on to his chest. “Arms.”

“Like this?” Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s middle, feeling the younger boy jump a little. He clasped his hands in front of Akaashi’s stomach.

“Yeah,” Akaashi said, with an exhale. “Hold on.”

Bokuto nodded when he realized Akaashi couldn't see that. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“I want you to let me know if you want to get off or it’s too fast right away, okay?”

“I will.” 

With that, Akaashi pressed on the gas pedal, and Sokudo growled. The engine purred, and a shiver went through Bokuto’s bloodstream. They started forwards and reflexively Bokuto tightened his grip on Akaashi, apologizing just as fast. Akaashi shook his head, it was okay, and then they drove onto the night.

Bokuto absolutely loved it.

The chilling wind covered every part of his body with abandon, prompting adrenaline to rush through his body with every turn and exhilaration. Bokuto watched lights flash past them, contrasting against the navy sky and quickly fading light with wonder. Akaashi navigated the roads with confidence, signalling and checking his mirrors like a pro. 

“Are you okay?” Akaashi’s voice was raised at a stoplight, checking in.

“Yeah, this is amazing!” Bokuto whooped, restraining himself from throwing up a punch in the air. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Bokuto could hear the smile in Akaashi’s voice.

“I love it!” Bokuto grinned back. The light switched to green, and Akaashi tightened his grip on the handles. As they exhilarated forwards suddenly, Bokuto’s head fell onto Akaashi’s shoulder from the momentum. Akaashi tensed for a second, and then relaxed so Bokuto didn’t move, his cheek pressed onto Akaashi’s back. He hummed mindlessly, savouring the rushing cold air, and Akaashi’s presence so close to him.

“Thank you for humouring my request to ride Sokudo,” Akaashi said as they pulled back into the garage, Sokudo slowing down to a dull murmur.

“Of course Akaashi! It was so much fun, thank you for letting me go with you.” Bokuto hopped off after Sokudo came to a standstill, stretching his arms. “That was awesome.” 

Akaashi pulled off his helmet. Maybe adrenaline was speaking, but with wind flushed cheeks and something extra still in his eyes, Bokuto was tempted to reach over and kiss Akaashi. 

“Bokuto-san? Helmet?” Akaashi held out a hand after taking off his gloves.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Bokuto pulled it off, blinking at how unfair it was that Akaashi looked pretty all the damn time. 

Akaashi glanced at Bokuto and let out a laugh as he took the helmet, slotting them back onto the shelf. He reached two hands into Bokuto’s hair, fluffing it up gently while amused. Bokuto felt himself lean into the touch, lean into the two hands carding through his hair. “You’ve got helmet hair.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened, he hadn’t even considered that. “No…”

“It looks fine, don’t worry,” Akaashi reassured him, and took a step back to examine it. Tucked a wick behind Bokuto’s ear. “There you go.”

“Alright, let me walk you home now,” Bokuto decided, picking up the groceries they had picked up. Some kind of fish and tofu, which had luckily still been on the shelves.

“Are you sure? Is it too late?” Akaashi glanced at the clock hanging across the garage. 9:37.

“Nope.” Bokuto would walk him home, midnight or 3 in the morning or 11 am. Anytime. 

“Okay then, thank you Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi constantly shocked Bokuto.

He was so calm walking to his house, only a faint blush on his cheeks indicating they had just zipped around on a motorcycle like some kind of superhero or something. Akaashi fidgeted with his hands, still talking about his family and filling Bokuto in on Sokudo. 

Bokuto was surprised when Akaashi had brushed their hands together, and ducked almost in embarrassment when Bokuto had taken his hand gently. Surprised at the story of Akaashi getting his license as soon as he could, and fixed up Sokudo with mismatching parts he’d assembled with his own hands.

And he was very shocked when he’d remembered he had forgotten to give Akaashi back the brown leather jacket, and Akaashi had said it was okay, he could give it back next time, and mumbled that it looked good on him. 

“AKAAAAAASSSHI!” Bokuto wanted to express how adorable Akaashi was blushing like that, and how everything Akaashi said made him grin, made something bloom in happiness, made him feel so lucky.

“Yes Bokuto-san?”

“Let me take you on that other date soon.” Bokuto declared, hopeful. “Please?”

Akaashi’s eyes widened fractionally, and then his mouth parted for a second, settling into a smile. 

“Okay, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi squeezed his hand. “I’d like that very much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but the idea of akaashi on a motorcycle kills me. so much. 
> 
> actually, yes, the legal age to have a motorcycle permit in japan in 15 years old and 10 months (2 years before their 16th birthday) for a small/medium sized motorcyle. for a large sized motorcycle, the rider has to be 17 years and 10 months (2 months before their 18th birthday).
> 
> also, in this story i have only bokuto wear a leather jacket, but wear protection from potential road rash if you're gonna go on a motorcycle. and helmets!
> 
> daifuku is a type of mochi and frequently mentioned in nisekoi, a manga and anime i like by shonen jump, so i included that. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


	5. "(s)he looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something." - rainbow rowell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is prone to hypnic jerks and his boyfriend, Bokuto is prone to being in love with Akaashi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scales of Intensity:
> 
> Angst: 0/10  
> Fluff: 9/10  
> Lime/Lemon: 1/10 
> 
> today is extra fluffy imo!

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered in between open and closed, lids heavy with the weight of being awake. Buried under the fluffiest blanket and resting on his boyfriend’s chest, Akaashi knew he was about to fall into the abyss of sleep soon. A hand was twirling in his hair, stroking his roots and fluffing it randomly. The gesture was almost hypnotic, seeming to draw all of Akaashi’s energy out of him.

Spooning on their couch, Bokuto lowered the volume to some action movie credits Akaashi had lost focus on in the first twenty minutes. 

“Tired, love?” Bokuto mumbled, and Akaashi felt a soft kiss being pressed to the crown of his head. Akaashi let his chin fall lower onto his chest, a ghost of a nod. He hummed.

“Bedroom?” Bokuto shifted a little, the blanket folding up and almost falling. Akaashi pressed himself flush against Bokuto and tucked the grey blanket with his fists under his chin. 

Bokuto laughed, making Akaashi shift. He loved the warmth radiating off Bokuto, and wrapping around him like an envelope of light.“Are you too tired?”

“Mhmm.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Mm.” Akaashi thought. He shook his head minisculely at the tempting request. Lying on top of Bokuto was fuzzy and the warmth was engulfing all his senses.

“You wanna stay here?”

“Mhmm.”

“In this Akaashi burrito?” 

“Mhmm.” Akaashi sighed, curling into more of a little ball. “Kaashi and Bokuto burrito.” His voice was barely there, lighter than air and gravel-like from tiredness. 

He knew tomorrow he’d hate the aches and pains, and there was a good chance they’d wake up in the middle of the night and crawl onto the floor or blindly stumble to their bedroom. But Akaashi felt so cozy, so warm, like a puzzle piece fit to Bokuto that he couldn’t bring himself to move willingly.

Bokuto kissed the top of his head again. “Okay.”

Flitting out and in of sleep, Akaashi saw his eyelids and then the rolling credits and then his eyelids again. Falling and rising steadily as Bokuto breathed, he was melting, melting into a puddle of happiness and dreams. 

He flexed his feet, wiggling his toes when Bokuto stretched slightly, and then it happened. 

“AH!” Bokuto yelped, rolling over in surprise. Akaashi, more than awake now, tried to inch away from Bokuto and ended up falling onto the floor. His hands still emancipated, Akaashi landed on his face with an “oof”.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto leaned over the side of the couch, looking down on the blushing burrito with concern.

“I’m sorry Bokuto-san.” Akaashi managed to pry a hand out of the blankets and put it to his forehead. “I didn’t mean to.”

Akaashi had always been prone to hypnic jerks, the involuntary muscle movement that made him spazz out right before he fell asleep. It hadn’t been a problem when he was a kid, but now, cuddling was always dangerous. The first time Akaashi had hit Bokuto, Bokuto had practically jumped away like a kicked animal and had taken a lot of coaxing to snuggle back again.

In their seventh month of dating, Bokuto was now used to it, sometimes kicking Akaashi playfully back or laughing it off. He took it in stride the one time Akaashi had pretty much slapped him, only whispering “kinky” to his blushing boyfriend. 

“I know, baby, it’s fine.” Bokuto was still balanced on his arms on the edge of the couch, peeking down. Akaashi let his head fall back onto the carpet, kicking the blanket off. 

“Did I hurt you?” Akaashi asked, sitting up and blinking away any remaining tiredness. 

“Nope!” Bokuto let his legs fall off of the couch and unceremoniously joined Akaashi on the floor. He kicked a sweatpant covered leg in the air, as if he wanted to prove his leg still worked. “I’m good. It was just surprising.” 

“Ugh, I’m sorry Bokuto-san,” Akaashi sighed again. He knew he hadn’t kicked Bokuto hard, but he still wished it hadn’t happened. Lifting the blanket up for Bokuto, he let it billow down over them and cover them both. It was much too small for both for the 6 ft boys, but Akaashi curled up to condense himself. 

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control, kaashi,” Bokuto snuggled onto him, the carpet rug under their heads bunching up. 

“Feel free to kick me back,” Akaashi offered, running a thumb over Bokuto’s cheekbone. Orbs in his eyes grew as Bokuto earnestly thought about Akaashi’s offer, and then shook his head.

“I have another idea.” Bokuto snuck his hands under Akaashi’s shirt and tickled him ruthlessly. Instantly, Akaashi tried to push his hands off and gasp for air at the same time. Fingers ran over his hips and his sides, skimming the skin and exploiting Akaashi’s weakness. 

“Boku-,” Akaashi giggled as Bokuto tickled his back. “Sto-”

Akaashi tried to push himself up onto his hands, falling back onto the floor and laughing harder. Bokuto was watching him with glee, fingers swiping at his sensitive skin. 

“Hey-”, “San,”, “Bo-”

Akaashi managed to pull himself up and fell onto Bokuto’s chest, stilling his boyfriend. Laughs faded as Bokuto retracted his hands, smiling. Resting his head above Bokuto’s heart, Akaashi realized his pants were bunched up around his knees and the blanket was discarded beside them. He propped himself up on his elbows, framing his face and looking down on Bokuto. 

“Meanie.” 

Bokuto pursed his lips as if to keep from laughing and Akaashi took it as an invitation. He leaned forwards to kiss Bokuto’s lips slowly. Gently, with care, until he was smiling and laughing a little again. Gold pools met green, heartbeats matching, and Akaashi took in the boy in front of him. 

Slope of his platinum tips and black roots, wide curve of his eyes, lines of his face and jaw that changed so much. Constantly ebbing and flowing into a new expression. 

“Keiji,” Bokuto’s lips formed. 

“Mhmm?” Akaashi let his gaze linger a little longer on his boyfriends’ lips than normal. 

“I have something to tell you,” Bokuto announced surely, his eyes sincere.

“What?” Akaashi contemplated kissing him again. Unless he was about to say something about Kuroo or how octopi or octopuses (that was another can of worms) have nine brains or that he wanted food. 

“I think I’m so in love with you.”

_Oh._

Akaashi’s breath hitched. He stared down at Bokuto, the impromptu confession making his heart race rapidly. 

“Like I’m so lucky to have you, I’m so lucky I get to tickle you, and get kicked by you, and kiss you because you’re so beautiful and talented and you’re the Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto said earnestly, with only a slight flush of pink at Akaashi’s state.

“Guess what?” Akaashi collected himself, smiling with joy. Radiating happiness and so much affection for his lover.

“What?”

“The Akaashi Keiji also thinks he’s so in love with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the idea of a ticklish akaashi, and bokuto exploiting that a lot to see him smile. 
> 
> sorry this one is a little short, i've been busy today. thanks for reading though!
> 
> also, i get hypnic jerks too a little too much for comfort, and I thought it would be a cool concept to branch off of.
> 
> :)


	6. "beautiful. crushingly so. you look like the rest of my life." - beau taplin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five times Akaashi coughs because of the garden growing in his chest, and the one time he doesn't. 
> 
> Akaashi Keiji is not sensible, and, just like how the moon and the earth gravitate towards each other, he develops hanahaki for Bokuto Koutarou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hanahaki - is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer unrequited love. It ends when the person they love returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.
> 
> note: the person suffering from the hanahaki has to know they are loved back in this au (ig?) to be cured, just having requited feelings exist isn't enough. 
> 
> scales of intensity: 
> 
> angst: 7/10  
> fluff: 6/10  
> lime/lemon: 2/10 (i mean, they kiss? i'm super iffy with these scales and i created them. wow)
> 
> tw: mention of death, choking, blood

I. Seedling

Akaashi had known it was coming. He’d always been susceptible to hanahaki, the flowers that grew in one’s chest from unrequited love. The curse followed him staggeringly close, he fell in love with people a little too much, he’d always give them all he had to the point of almost dying. Both two previous times Akaashi had let it go away but itself. The flowers had never been too severe to consider the surgery. And, as a hopeless romantic, he absolutely hated the notion of losing his feelings or memories of his loved ones.

So when Akaashi felt the tickle on the back of his throat after admiring their team captain yet again, a sense of dread pooled in his chest. It wasn’t fun to have unrequited love in the first place, but flowers sprouting at every wave of emotion you felt? So much worse. 

Perhaps Akaashi should’ve tried to curb the affection for the ace beforehand, but he hadn't bothered trying. Bokuto was loud and demanding and it was impossible for Akaashi not to drop like a stone into a pond of hopelessness. 

“Akaashi? You look like you’re about to pass out,” Komi, their libero, had called out. Fukurodani had just wrapped up 3 v 3 practice games, stretching now and cooling down.

“Just a little tired.” Akaashi tipped the sides of his lips up, ignoring the slight fluttering in his throat. 

“Akaashhh! No! I thought we were going to practice more after today.” Bokuto had turned around from chasing Konoha and looked at him, crestfallen.

Akaashi knew the sensible thing was to say, “No, not today, Bokuto-san,” or convince a first-year to set for Bokuto. The sensible thing was to go home and assess how big the flower was, what type, and take steps to stop rapidly falling for Bokuto and his infectious personality. 

Just then, he had to cough, shaking a little and covering his mouth with his elbow. When he looked back up, Bokuto was peering down at him, concerned. Waiting. 

“Bokuto, leave poor Akaashi-kun out of this. Shoo.” Saruki, #3, stepped in assertively. 

“Kaashi?” Bokuto looked at him again, teetering on hopeful and impatient.

“Yeah,” Akaashi sighed, swallowing with difficulty and offering Saruki a reassuring smile. “I’m good. We can practice.”

See, Akaashi Keiji was very much a sensible person. But not when it came to love, and especially not when it came to Bokuto Koutarou. 

II. Buds

“Akaashi! Happy Birthday!” Komi leaped up to Akaashi, throwing an arm around him and invading everything that defined personal space. 

“Thank you, Komi-san.” Akaashi was surprised his teammates had remembered, all of them streaming over after Komi. He didn’t take to advertising his birthday, so it was sweet that they congratulated him, slapped him on the back, and wished him well. Akaashi murmured his thanks, going about his normal routine and helping to set up the nets. 

“AKAASH!” Bokuto was sprinting towards him like a madman at full tilt from across the gym. He was still in his school uniform, just dropped all his bags. Akaashi took a step back as Bokuto barrelled into him, scooping him up. Air was compressed out of his lungs, his feet swept up as Bokuto kept running, hoisting him up and over his shoulder. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi gasped, bumping around in Bokuto’s arms. “Practice is that way.”

“Not today!” Bokuto yelled gleefully and pushed the door open. Cold air blasted Akaashi’s skin exposed in only a tee-shirt and goosebumps instantly cropped up. Outside, Bokuto finally put Akaashi down, grabbing his wrist and continued running. Akaashi fell into an involuntary sprint, struggling. The hand on his wrist _burned._

About two weeks had passed since Akaashi had first felt the flower, and right now, he was scared. It was stirring, Bokuto pressed against him, brushing his hands, waist, legs, arms, everything. It burned.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tried again. “Stop.”

“Oh,” Bokuto dug his feet into the ground, Akaashi almost pitching forwards. “Are you cold?” Bokuto whipped off his grey blazer and Akaashi felt the cloth being pulled around his shoulders. Warmer than his ever was, and a little stretched. 

“No, no, I’m not, but we should go back.” Akaashi didn’t move to put his hands in the sleeves, the jacket draping awkwardly over his shoulders. 

Bokuto looked at him expectantly. Akaashi really didn’t want to put up with his shenanigans today. He already felt the absence of the searing heat on his hand, and the too heavy blazer weighing down. But the look on Bokuto’s face was the one that would stay there until Akaashi agreed to toss, to practice serving, to walk with him. Insistent and wouldn’t go away until he agreed. 

Exasperated, Akaashi stared at him back. A hand jerkingly encircled his wrist again and then Boktuo pulled him along into another sprint, Akaashi barely keeping up. The jacket was falling and Akaashi had half a mind to grab it, the hand’s skin and bone being singed. 

They ran until they hit the east side of the school, a bench and a vending machine in front of them. Bokuto pulled Akaashi all the way to the vending machine, finally slowing. 

“Pick something,” he gestured towards the machine, red in the face.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tried to right himself, the jacket hooked in the crook of his arm and his face pink. “This is inappropriate behaviour for a captain. We have team practice right now.” 

But Akaashi knew he was barely keeping a smile off his face, and his eyes were betraying him. They wanted to be here, wanted to drink in the sight of Bokuto all to himself. 

“Akaash, I wanted to get you something. I wasn’t sure what, so I guessed you could just pick. Oh yeah, Happy Birthday!” Bokuto barely got the words out before he swept Akaashi up again, arms around his middle and forcing Akaashi onto his tiptoes. 

“Thank you Bokuto-san.” Akaashi gently put his arms around Bokuto, hugging him back. He was a heater, a little furnace of energy and Akaashi felt greedy for wanting to freeze the moment. The same second the thought crossed his mind, he pulled back to resist coughing.

“Okay, pick something. Anything!” Bokuto pulled back and dug around in his pockets. Akaashi lifted his chin up slightly out of reflex from the tickle, opening up his windpipe. 

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Akaashi said, his voice cracking once. 

“Course I do,” Bokuto studied the options, sounding like he was stating the obvious. “You like green tea, right?”

He did.

“The no sugar kind?”

He did. Akaashi nodded. 

“And you always get this brand.” Bokuto entered his coins and punched in the numbers, 19. Mechanically, the bottle fell into the slot and Bokuto pushed it open. He grabbed the plastic bottle with little jellies inside and the smooth taste Akaashi loved and held it out with two hands. 

“Happy Birthday Keiji.” Bokuto smiled, that compelling, joyous smile. Akaashi’s breath hesitated at the use of his first name. 

“Thank you Bokuto-san,” Akaashi took it, the weight sloshing into his hand. “I really appreciate this.”

“It’s only a vending machine drink. I wanted to make you tea like this at home but jelly is really hard,” Bokuto scrunched his nose up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, this is more than enough.” 

Only a vending machine drink? Bokuto had pulled him out of practice for this, remembered it was his favourite, bought it and just admitted he’d tried to make it. 

Akaashi coughed once. He tried to catch his breath, desperately wondering if the tea would help even though he knew the flower was only agitated by emotions, and ended up having a coughing fit. He keeled a little, a hand flying up to his throat. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Bokuto suddenly looked a little sheepish. “I guess it’s cold with only a tee-shirt. Wear my jacket, Akaashi.”

Akaashi started to protest. _It’s a blazer,_ he tried to say. He ended up coughing again, and he knew that sensation. A petal was about to come up. Akaashi nodded at Bokuto instead, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Shutting his lips. 

Bokuto grinned and fell into a canter back towards the school, jumping to another story already. Akaashi watched the green tea swish back and forth in the bottle. Only a vending machine drink was more than enough. Edging on dangerous, since too much could kill him. Literally. 

III. Petals 

If he was sensible, this wouldn’t be happening.

Akaashi cursed himself yet again as he coughed into the sink in the back of the school bathroom. He inhaled shakily, and when his breath caught on a petal, another fit of coughs rang into the air. 

“Akaashi? Are you okay?” Bokuto swung open the bathroom door, walking in to check on his setter. Of course, he didn’t know Akaashi would’ve preferred it to be anyone else. Emotions triggered the growth of the flower, and for Akaashi, being around Bokuto triggered emotion. Just a glimpse could send a damn of jumbled want straight to the roots of his flower. Seeing him was dangerous. 

Forcing himself to stand up, Akaashi pressed a hand to his mouth and turned on the tap. Blood droplets swirled down the drain. 

A month since he’d first felt the flower. It had grown steadily, to the point where Akaashi had to tell people he had a common cold, he was sick, yes he was fine, it would pass. 

Lies. The worst part about having hanahaki was the lying. Lying to others, and to yourself. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi felt the lie roll off his tongue. “I’m alright.”

Bokuto walked over, too close, and studied him unabashedly. “You are not. You haven't been fine for a while.”

Akaashi toyed with the idea of confessing. When other girls, and one guy had confessed to Bokuto, the ace had been beet red and stutteringly turned them down. Of course, Akaashi didn’t want to make anything awkward, but the logical part of him knew hanahaki was easier to deal with once rejected if love being returned was impossible.

But Akaashi wasn’t sensible, as he knew. He was self-destructive, he was the type to fall in love easily, to push himself to the point of exhaustion. 

“I've just been stressed lately,” Akaashi lied by omission. 

Bokuto narrowed his eyes. Skeptical as he looked Akaashi up and down like suddenly he’d notice the setter had a pair of wings or something. His eyes on Akaashi were too much, his voice and his presence was too much for Akaashi right now.

“Bokuto-san, please go back to practice. I’ll be right there.” Akaashi felt another cough coming. “Go practise with Anahori-kun.” 

“But your tosses are better,” Bokuto complained routinely, his green eyes asking.

“I want privacy,” Akaashi said flatly. “Now,” he added, feeling his gag reflex kicking in. Bokuto threw him a wounded puppy look but left just as Akaashi exploded into coughs. Blood splattered on the white sink, and Akaashi spat two petals into his hand. 

Interesting. Akaashi washed off the petals while breathing unevenly. He snorted. Of course. Oblong and yellow, vibrant sunflower petals. Fitting. Akaashi only had time to laugh once before another petal forced itself up his throat. 

IV. Flower

Akaashi grinned, tight-lipped at their captain, who had just embraced him like they’d won the lottery. Perhaps it was like that for him, now he got to brag to Kuroo that Fukurodani won against Nekoma until another rematch in a month or so. 

“You’re actually the best Akaashi, your sets were so good today, oh and Konoha thanks for backing me up, Kuroo you saw the last cross-shot didn’t you?” Bokuto turned around to each of them in turn, praising them nonsensically in between gloating and jumping up and down. Akaashi nodded. He’d started a habit of keeping his mouth firmly stitched shut when the ace was around ever since winter break had ended.

“Wow, he’s extra worked up today,” Kenma noted monotonically from Akaashi’s side. Akaashi nodded again. 

“Why’re you so quiet today?” Kenma watched Akaashi from the side of his vision. 

“Tired,” Akaashi lied yet again. 

Kenma was judging him, Akaashi knew. Silently, but strangely Akaashi didn’t care. It wasn’t like Kenma could see the flower bursting from Akaashi’s windpipe.

“We just played a full game of volleyball and you look fine. We don’t have to talk about it but you better stop moping if you can change it.” 

“Kitten, you’re no better.” Kuroo came over and fluffed Kenma’s hair, much to Kenma’s displeasure. “But Akaashi, Kenma’s right. You look out of it.”

“Kitten?” Akaashi questioned instead. Kenma gave Kuroo an accusatory look. 

“Would you prefer my lord?” Kuroo sank to one knee dramatically like a knight in front of his boyfriend, drawing stares from both teams. 

“Stand up Kuroo,” Kenma hissed, pulling on his shirt. 

“Yes, my lord.” Kuroo saluted. 

“Stop that.” 

“No, my lord.” 

“You sound like Sebastian Michaelis.”

“He’s hot.” 

“Ignore him,” Kenma turned back to Akaashi. “Just, don’t beat yourself up about it. Or whatever.”

Akaashi nodded like he could do something about it. Just then, a weight was slung over his shoulder, and the whole idea of not beating himself up went out the window. 

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi retracted quickly, stepping away. He should’ve noticed the catalytic ace coming over here. The flowers seemed to unfurl at Bokuto’s touch, and Akaashi consciously prevented himself from hyperventilating. Just breathe.

“Kuroo, talking to my setter about his amazing skills? We’ll whoop your ass at Nationals this year.” _My setter. We will._ Akaashi tilted his head up way further than what would be considered normal and focussed on breathing slowly. In, out. Careful not to disturb the flower. Careful not to cough, not to show how much he was in love with Bokuto.

“You sure talk big for someone who missed three serves in the last set,” Kuroo teased. Bokuto sputtered. 

“But I got a lot of cross shots today! The one cut shot at the end of the first set was really good, wasn’t it Akaashi?” Bokuto turned to the setter, already having trouble trying to breathe, and pinned him with his eyes. Eagerly looking for praise, his earnest gaze drilling into Akaashi. Akaashi closed his eyes for a second, overwhelmed by the gold. He couldn’t think. Suddenly he could smell the sunflowers in his throat, and it was revolting. Sticky sweet, mixed with grass and crazily enough, green tea.

“Yes, Bokuto-san. Nice line shot.”

“Cross shot,” Kenma corrected. 

“Mmhmm,” Akaashi hummed impatiently. He needed to get away. 

“Kaash, you alright? Do you need water or something?” Kuroo asked faintly in the distance. Akaashi thought he shook his head.

“Akaashi! Stop dying!” _Ha,_ Akaahi thought sluggishly. _As if._ And then two hands were on his shoulders, shaking him. Akaashi’s eyes flew open, and he leaped back. The flower bloomed, it flourished under Bokuto’s touch. Under his intensity and rushed kindness, his power and endless energy Akaashi loved and simultaneously hated. 

“Washroom-,” he choked out before stumbling blindly into the hallway. He fell once in the common hallway onto his knees, hands shaking and over his mouth. Akaashi was coughing with enough force to rack his body, enough force to make his tremble and fight for air. 

Blood splattered on his hands. It was warm, and Akaashi tightened his fingers so it wouldn’t fall onto the floor. He let the blood stain his hands, coughs way too loud now, until finally he retched up a flower. Tinted red, Akaashi, as always, admired the bright yellow. The flower wasn’t as big as a normal sunflower, seeming to make up for its size in deep colour. The petals were folded into the middle, floppy with blood, and caressing his fingers. 

Sighing, Akaashi stood up. He navigated his way to the bathroom. Watching the blood streak down the drain, Akaashi washed his mouth. Another thing he hated about hanahaki was the aftertaste of blood. So salty, and bitter. Like love. 

V. Garden

Akaashi was sitting at the end of class, tapping his pen mindlessly and contemplating death. He was probably in Stage 3 of Hanahaki since he’d just coughed up yet another flower. Flowers were always a bad sign. 

At this point, the surgery entailed many risks. A risk he could die, of course. And then one of losing all feelings for Bokuto. And then one of losing all memories, which Akaashi thought was bullshit. Utter bullshit. Then again, so was having a flower grow in your chest. And being in love with your captain, your ace, someone who was a year older than you and hyper to the point of being past drugs sometimes. 

Akaashi scoffed. 

“Was that at me, kaashi?” Akaashi’s head flew up at the familiar voice. But it had an undertone of uncertainty. 

“Ah- Bokuto-san.” Akaashi felt his back press up against his chair. “No.”

“Are you coming to practice today?” Bokuto fiddled with his blazer buttons, ignoring the stares at a third-year in a second-year classroom. 

“Uh - I don’t know.” Akaashi had skipped yesterday, for the first time ever. He’d seen Bokuto in midair, like an ace should be, soaring, when he’d needed to leave. He had to, going home and coughing up two flowers on the way there. 

“Please come,” Bokuto requested. “It’s not fun without you.” 

“Anahori-kun can set for you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi pressed himself further back, as far as his chair would allow him. The foot of space in between them was still to close and somehow not close enough.

“That’s not the problem.” Bokuto’s whine came out again. “It’s not like that. I like it when you’re around, even if you’re not setting.” 

“That’s nice.” _We don't get what we want._

“Please come?”

“I said maybe.”

“Pleassssssseeeeeeeeeeee?” Bokuto dragged out, leaning close to Akaashi and hands on his shoulders. Mere inches, and then could kiss. Or maybe, Bokuto would be able to smell the stench of sunflowers and blood on Akaashi’s breath. The evidence Akaashi wanted to come to practice, wanted to be with Bokuto, to the point of letting a plant leech off his emotions. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whipped out his cold voice at the touch. He coughed once, and knew this was a mistake. He should’ve left the moment Bokuto showed up. Akaashi moved to stand up sharply. “Stop that. Go to practice. I’m not coming.”

Bokuto recoiled. His hair seemed to visibly droop, slouching and falling into a pout. Akaashi shouldered his bag and walked out, ignoring the pounding in his heart and the flower petals fluttering just below his tongue. 

V + I. Dying

Akaashi skipped the next day at practice too. And the next. And the next. Washio and Komi had approached him, sympathetic looks at his hypothetical illness, and Akaashi hated himself even more. Not seeing Bokuto hadn’t stopped the growth of the sunflower, maybe stunted it or pressed pause for the moment. 

There was no plan. The only plan was to avoid Bokuto until Akaashi could figure something out. He’d been panicking so much ever since the flower had started growing at all the consequences. The previous time, Akaashi had accepted the disease after examining his feelings and the boy it had grown for, although that flower had only reached stage 2. Akaashi knew he was reaching Stage 4. 5 was terminal, unless the surgery was done. So there was no time to “figure something out”. He’d die before then. 

Scary thing was, Akaashi was maybe, maybe okay with that. 

Dying for Bokuto didn’t seem so bad. 

“AKKASHHHI!”

“No,” Akaashi grinned, genuinely at Bokuto for the first time in days. After all, this was the boy he might die for. Surprised, Bokuto took a few steps towards him.

“We’re going to get green tea from the vending machine. If you don’t want me to pull you, please follow,” Bokuto glanced at Akaashi’s wrist. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi needed to stop this. 

“Please Akaashi.” Bokuto reached out a hand and Akaashi flinched away. Hurt flashed over Bokuto’s fingers and Akaashi felt bad. He needed to stop this, but he really didn’t have the heart too. 

“Ten minutes.”

Bokuto popped in his coins, grabbing the familiar green tea from the slot at the bottom and holding it out to Akaashi. “Here you go.” 

Akaashi took, his fingers carefully missing Bokuto’s. He unscrewed the lid delicately and gulped down a sip, feeling the liquid brush the flowers like the tea was watering his tragedy. 

“Thanks.”

Bokuto sat on the bench, and Akaashi sat on the other side. The space in between them. Akaashi could maybe cross it with one step, and with a thousand heartbeats. It was uncertain, wavering and fluxing.

“What happened?” Bokuto asked, a little tentatively and a little desperate. 

Akaashi let out a shaky laugh, a ghost of what emotion he used to be happy to express around Bokuto. 

_What happened?_

The flowers started growing, and the touches felt like fire. Volleyball became a blessing and a curse and the gym was his home and a palace to be avoided like the plague. The scent of sunflowers and blood were one now. The feeling of love and guilt were one now. Where hope started and sadness ended blurred together until Akaashi and his hanahaki were one. 

But in simple terms, Bokuto Koutarou happened. 

_You._

“You,” Akaashi said. It came out as “Nothing.” 

“That’s a lie,” Bokuto huffed. “Just tell me what happened.” 

Well, Akaashi figured. The world was so hellbent on making his life awful. What the hell. Now was as good as ever to confess, might as well just spill out his guts and the giant flower in his system at once now.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi apologized, which came out as, “I said nothing.”

Looks like his lies were catching up to him. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tried again. Bokuto turned towards him, a good foot away, and he looked sad. Not pouty, or frustrated, but sad. Caringly sad, and Akaashi felt like shit for making him feel that way. And he also felt like shit for revelling in the beautiful, wholesome eyes that were zeroing in on his every move. Looking for something. 

Minutes passed.

Bokuto reached the conclusion Akaashi wasn’t going to continue. He looked down. “Keiji-”

Too much. That was too much. Akaashi fell off the bench, his knees hitting the cold concrete and hands instinctively catching the blood dripping from his mouth. The weight of petals fell into his hands and Akaashi clamped his hands over his mouth. 

In his haste, Bokuto was beside Akaashi, kneeling. One hand on his shoulder, and it was so hot. Akaashi wanted to hit it away, but then the blood would get everyone on the concrete and taint this place that was supposed to be him and Bokuto. So Akaashi’s body wracked with coughs and dry sobs, a cry and a plea and a beg for mercy. 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto was stroking his back, so gently, even though Akaashi was lying to him. Shutting him out and pushing him away. 

“Stop!” Akaashi let out a guttural cry, fireworks were painting themselves on his back with every fingertip, and he slapped Bokuto’s arm away. Sitting back onto the bench, his hand flashed for a second and he dissolved into another fit of coughs. 

This time, Akaashi didn’t hide the blood. He spat it onto the concrete, yellow petals amid the drops. He let the blood roll off his hands and paint the ground in front of Bokuto. Handfuls of petals and half flowers littered the ground when Akaashi finally managed to get himself under control. Bokuto was staring, brokenly at the petals. A flower heaved its way out of Akaashi’s throat and into his hands. 

It was encased in glistening red. Akaashi held it out to Bokuto. 

“For you,” he said almost emptily, his eyes flicking to the wreckage around them. 

“No,” Bokuto plucked the flower from Akaashi’s hand, the blood wiping itself on his fingertips. He twirled it around in his hand like it was miraculous. The way one would look at a firefly, or a gift from someone you loved. “Not me.”

“What do you think?” Akaashi said almost cruelly. He wanted to stop talking. “Of course it’s you.”

Bokuto stared at the flower. He slowly raised his gaze to Akaashi. “Of course?”

“Yes!” Akaashi yelled, before coughing again and spitting a petal on the already browning blood. “Of course it’s you. It’s always, always been you.” Cliche, Akaashi cringed through the residue of liquid death and wounds on his mouth.

Bokuto didn’t look mad. He looked still confused, still wondering. Then someone clicked, and he tilted his head at Akaashi. 

“I don’t know how to say this-” Bokuto took quick steps towards Akaashi, something of a grin and terror on his face. And then- 

Oh.

Akaashi was being kissed. 

_Oh._

And he tasted blood, and sunflower petals and something like wildness. Lips were on his, fingers tilting his chin up, a hand laced in his hair and pressing him close. 

He sighed into the kiss, insistent and floating. Instead of a tickle, something like hope bloomed in its place. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Bokuto pulled away, jumping back and holding up his hands. “I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve asked, I-”

“What, what are you talking about, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi stared at him in confusion. 

“You didn’t kiss back, I shouldn’t have just gone for it and assumed-” Bokuto was horrified. 

Akaashi pushed off the bench and grabbed Bokuto in a tight hug, their noses touching. “Sorry, that was a mistake. I just,” Akaashi didn’t know how to say anything either. 

He pressed his lips onto Bokuto’s again, trying to burn himself this way. Burn an imprint of Bokuto’s lips on his, burn the feeling of their souls so close it would be a criminal to try and take them apart. Bokuto didn’t make the same mistake he had, Bokuto kissed back. Bokuto kissed back, like he was the one dying, like he needed Akaashi to breathe, not like the world was ending, but like the world was spinning on its axis and restarting because of them. 

“I just, you know,” Akaashi said in between kisses, “you know when you want something so bad.”

Kiss.

“You just,” 

Kiss

“You don’t,”

Kiss.

“Know how to have it?”

Kiss, a long one. A long, long one that felt like the moon rising and the sketch of a kite string. Taunt and loaded and delicate. 

“Yeah,” Bokuto broke apart first, grinning faintly and looking equally as stunned as Akaashi. “I do.”

Akaashi kissed him to shut him up again. He dragged his fingers over Bokuto’s back, pulling him closer and closer. The scent of sunflower was falling, being replaced with Bokuto’s affection from kisses and hair pulls and a whine when Akaashi bit his lip. 

Salt. Akaashi realized he was crying, tears mixing with the blood and their kisses. 

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto apologized against his lips, subsisting kisses with words and vice versa. “I’m so sorry for taking so long, I’m so sorry Akaashi.”

Bokuto pulled back, thumbing away Akaashi’s tears and talking in a rush. “I’m so, so, sorry Akaashi, I took way too long, you shouldn’t have had to wait, I’m so sorry.” Bokuto was blabbing. “I- I knew something was wrong, I’m so sorry I took forever.”

He kept apologizing as he kissed each one of Akaashi’s tears away, holding him securely. Holding him like Akaashi was his.

“I’m so sorry Keiji,” Bokuto managed to get out coherently. 

Akaashi knew he should say, “It’s okay”, but that came out as, “I love you.”

“And that almost killed you, I’m so sorry,” Bokuto buried his face in Akaashi’s blazer, probably smearing blood and tears all over it. His chest was heaving, hugging Akaashi so tight Akaashi wondered if the flower would die from just that. 

“It’s okay,” Akaashi said again, it still coming out as, “I love you.” 

Bokuto’s ears perked up. He tilted back, meeting Akaashi’s eyes. “I- I love you too.” 

No, the world didn’t collapse or stop turning. The world was fine. But Akaashi felt something click into place, something like happiness pool in his stomach for the first time in a while again, something like utter joy and utter relief mixed together. 

“Really?” Akaashi wanted to hear it again. “Can you?”

“I love you, kaashi.” Bokuto kissed him once again, lips sliding into place. Akaashi felt Bokuto’s lips settle on his nose. It was cold outside, but there were two fires burning for each other.

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrected. 

“I love you, Keiji,” Bokuto emphasized Akaashi’s first name, kissing him again. Akaashi kissed him back, hard, and took Bokuto by surprise. 

“I love you too, Koutarou. So much that I’ll forgive you for almost killing me.” Akaashi said teasingly against Bokuto’s lips, trying to never let go and deal with the excess of emotion toppling his senses over.

“I’m sorr-”

Kiss. 

“It’s okay,” Akaashi finally got out. “Really, Bokuto-san. Really,” he huffed at Bokuto’s questioning eyes. Staring at them, something he had deprived himself for doing for so long. 

“God, I’ve missed you,” Akaashi let out in a stream of air. He really had, missed the ace’s mood swings and awful jokes and stupid common sense that almost got him killed on a daily bases six times. (Yes, Akaashi had counted in a tally average). 

“I missed you so much Akaashi, you seemed so distant. It felt so lonely and you looked so lonely and I didn’t know what to do. Volleyball practise was so lame without you these last few days, and walking home was even worse without you just being there. But you were missing Akaashi!” Bokuto looked at him intently, seriously. “I missed you!”

“I know,” Akaashi shook his own head. “I know. I missed you too.” 

Bokuto shook his head. “I missed you more. I thought I was going to die every day.”

“I was dying every day, you dumbass,” Akaashi poked Bokuto’s cheek, smiling. Bokuto instantly sobered. 

“Are you okay now?” Bokuto asked, his head cocked like an owl. Akaashi took a big breath of air. That felt so good. Sure, the tickle was still there, and Akaashi knew it took a little over a week to completely die, but he knew it wasn’t growing anymore. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi nodded. He explained the process of healing to Bokuto, still wrapped in his arms. Step by step, and Bokuto drank in every word. The way he was watching Akaashi felt very intimate, like he hung the sun and the stars every night. 

Akaashi was glad he wasn’t sensible. 

Bokuto was holding his hand, running his fingers over Akaashi’s taped hands from volleyball and slowly undoing the tape. When Akaashi had explained being around whoever the flower bloomed for was a trigger and helped heal terrifically, Bokuto hadn’t left his side for the last day. He was connected to Akaashi by holding hands, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, a fluff of his hair. 

“Bokuto-san, you have to hurry up so we can get home,” Akaashi prompted him. Undoing the tape slowly, Bokuto was sitting across from him and concentrated endearingly on the task. Once they were undone, Bokuto took them in his own and kissed Akaashi’s forehead. 

“Let’s go,” Bokuto stood up and interlaced their fingers before grabbing his bag. Walking home, Bokuto brushed Akaashi’s side every few meters, talking about everything they’d missed over the last few days and the details of a doctor’s appointment Akaashi had booked for safety’s sake. 

“Hey,” Bokuto said softly, tugging on Akaashi’s hand. They were in front of Akaashi’s house, Bokuto having insisted on walking Akaashi home.

“Yes?” Akaashi turned around. 

“I really am sorry.” Bokuto looked at the ground, blinking. 

“Bokuto-san, you don’t have to be. I equally deserve the blame, falling in love with such a dense guy.” Akaashi didn’t fault Bokuto whatsoever with this. “The past will always be very messy, and we can talk about it tomorrow, but why don’t we stay in the present right now.” 

“Okay,” Bokuto agreed, a smile breaking out. “The now.” 

“Now.” Akaashi pulled Bokuto in for a kiss, a formal, loving kiss full of adoration and completeness. 

Perhaps Akaashi had thought dying for being in love with Bokuto would be okay, but he learned he’d much rather be living for being in love with Bokuto. 

Akaashi was so, so glad he wasn’t sensible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a lot more angsty than intended. and a lot longer. well. 
> 
> black butler reference! also i love kuroken. 
> 
> i'm not sure if kaashi would push bokuto away if he every got hanahaki, but in this fic i made it that way. i think love and then love with death will do strange things to everyone.
> 
> also, lowkey, i think if hanahaki was a real thing i would have died last year. anyway. 
> 
> i adore the idea of bokuto giving akaashi nicknames. "love, kaashi, kaashh". so cute! i tired kaasshhhhhh in this one, i think that actually happens in the anime a few times during the training camp.
> 
> sorry for all the angst today, even though this was supposed to be fluff. thank you for reading!


	7. “these pictures are my heart. and if my heart was a canvas, every square inch of it would be painted over with you.” - cassandra clare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi injures his fingers setting for his ace, and Bokuto hates seeing him hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity:
> 
> angst: 1/10  
> fluff: 7.5/10  
> lime/lemon: 1/10
> 
> enjoy!

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi called out of habit, his fingers flexing to set the bright volleyball. Fukurodani’s ace leaped into the air, legs and arms bent to slam forwards and execute a perfect line shot. 

“See you tomorrow!” Komi and Washio called from the doorway, leaving from team practice. Akaashi nodded affirmatively at them before focussing back on Bokuto. 

“Quick set B,” Akaashi instructed. Bokuto pitched a ball into the air from their volleyball cart and Akaashi adjusted. Straining to look up, he held his hands up and sensed Bokuto’s approach, split-second too late for a quick set B. Akaashi positioned his hands and added a little height, giving Bokuto enough time to reach the peak of his jump. 

Bokuto had rushed too far forwards, and barely missed the net on the way down. His forward momentum charged the ball with extra energy and it spun out of bounds. 

Akaashi watched it, frowning. 

“Again,” Bokuto said as Akaashi thought it. He turned around as the ace tossed another ball. Higher this time, so Akaashi had more leniency with timing. 

The two fell into a mechanical focus, this almost non-verbal understanding taking over. Akaashi deciding a set, and Bokuto jumping until they could nail it consistently. Akaashi was a perfectionist, and Bokuto was just as bad when it came to spikes. Line shots could always be cleaner, their quick could always have a split second shaved off it, sets too low and too high could always be fixed just a little more. 

“Akaash, one more,” Bokuto requested insistently. Akaashi had a crick in his neck, his arms were sore and his feet hurt. But he nodded, used to the ache. 

“C,” Akaashi picked. Bokuto threw the ball up, and Akaashi stood underneath it. He flicked the ball away with his wrists just before it fell onto his face, aiming for Bokuto’s point of impact. Bokuto’s eyes caught up with the momentum, everything in motion as he smacked it down and straight into the court. 

“Nice,” Akaashi breathed. Bokuto turned, breaking out of his routine to smile at Akaashi. Akaashi tipped him a grin in return.

“One more?” Bokuto requested again. 

“Bokuto-san, it’s getting late.” Akaashi code for it’s time to wrap it up. 

“One more, please Akaashiii,” Bokuto’s voice took on a little whine. Ever since they’d started dating, Bokuto hadn’t hesitated on bribing Akaashi with kisses or whining until he got another set. They were powerful weapons in his arsenal, as Akaashi was weak for his captain, and his boyfriend. Not that he would admit it, but he was a pushover.

“A few, and then that’s it.” Akaashi set up again. 

And again. 

And again. 

“One more?” Bokuto asked when Akaashi lowered his arms to his sides, looking at Bokuto like he was done. Still, his feet shuffled back to a setting position firmly and his hands raised up. The ball rushed towards him familiarly. Akaashi’s hands sluggishly raised, a second too late and the volleyball collided with his left hand harshly.

A crack of pain ran up his nerves, and his left pointer finger gave out. Shit.

He hissed air through his teeth, grabbing his finger and curling into himself. 

“Akaashi?” Bokuto materialized by his side, staring at his finger intensely. 

“I think I jammed it,” Akaashi assessed. It wasn’t a sprain or a break, he could still move it, and the pain was dulling already. Jams weren’t serious, they took a week to heal and then were tender for about a month. Still, flexing his finger tentatively, Akaashi felt spikes of pain relight. 

Bokuto picked Akaashi’s left hand up by the wrist and cradled it. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Akaashi replied automatically. The pain diminished to his palm, and the joints felt stressed. “I won't be able to practice for about a week though.”

“Kaashi,” Bokuto complained, visibly drooping like a flower and turning Akaashi’s hand around with his. “We should have stopped earlier.”

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi didn’t want Bokuto to go into emo mode. 

“Do you want ice?” Akaashi nodded. Bokuto tugged on his healthy wrist, towards the club room. Akaashi followed, gingerly holding his injured hand in the air. 

Bokuto fished around in the club cooler while Akaashi sat on their bench in the middle. He exclaimed his finger. It was a little red, and starting to swell. 

“Here.” Bokuto picked up an ice pack, the type filled with medical jelly and placed it on Akaashi’s hand. It pricked his skin, startled by the cold. The jelly moulded itself around his fingers. Bokuto came to sit on the opposite side of the bench, leaning forwards on his own hands anxiously. 

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asked, staring at the ice pack.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad. You don’t have to worry.” Akaashi tested wiggling his fingers under the ice pack. Not too bad.

“I’m so sorry Akaashi!” Bokuto buried his face in his hands, curling up into a little ball. He was on the brink of emo mode. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi needed a distraction for him. “Can you come here?” 

Bokuto unrolled himself and looked at Akaashi questioningly. Akaashi patted the bench immediately beside him. Bokuto instantly scooched over, rocking the wooden bench a little. 

“Sit up tall,” Akaashi instructed. Bokuto lifted his chin, straightening his back. Akaashi dropped his head onto Bokuto’s shoulder like it was a pillow and held out his right hand. 

Bokuto took the signal, interlacing his fingers with Akaashi’s uninjured ones. 

“Good.” Akaashi murmured, feeling Bokuto calming down and the familiar weight of his boyfriend's hand.

“Why’re you taking care of me?” Bokuto thought out loud. “You’re injured, I’m supposed to be taking care of you, but you beat me to the punch.”

“It’s okay, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said absentmindedly. Bokuto huffed at this, his feet swinging a little. Sides pressed up against one another, Akaashi breathed in the closeness. 

The clock ticked, and Akaashi felt the swelling reduce. He shifted the ice pack, seeing the red mostly gone. Flexing his fingers wasn’t too bad.

“Can I tape it?” Bokuto was already going to get the tape in Akaashi’s bag. 

“Alright.” Akaashi put the ice pack back in the cooler, sitting back down on the bench.

White tape wrapped around his finger as Bokuto cared for it in concentration. Once, twice, three times and then some, around his pointer. Bokuto then braced it against Akaashi’s middle finger, biting his lip in focus. Once Akaashi’s fingers were encased in a glove and Bokuto was satisfied with his work, he set the tape down. 

He swept up Akaashi’s hand and kissed the fingers, and palm, wrist, every inch of skin while Akaashi tried to find words. Akaashi didn’t dare pull his hand back, blush sweeping his features at the wisps of lips hitting his rough fingers. 

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi lifted his right hand and racked it through Bokuto’s hair. Bokuto grabbed his right wrist, lining it up with his left, and stared at his outstretched hands. 

“Your hands are so pretty,” Bokuto expressed mournfully. “I’m sorry I hurt them. I’m sorry I hurt you, Kaashi.” Eyes filled with such strong regret and remorse that Akaashi felt compelled to say it was okay, although he had already forgiven Bokuto the moment it had happened. 

“It was an accident, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Akaashi said back gently. 

“But I made you set so many times, if we stopped earlier this wouldn’t have happened.” Bokuto dipped his head down in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I like setting for you. I choose to be there, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” Akaashi assured him as Bokuto pressed more kisses onto the injured hand, dotting them like freckles on the setter’s hands. 

“Pretty hands, pretty setter, I’m sorry,” Bokuto mumbled in between kisses.

“Hey.” Akaashi lifted Bokuto’s chin up with his right hand. “Pretty setter’s ace too. Don’t mope Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto tilted his head owlishly in question. 

“Kiss me with a happy look,” Akaashi prompted, leaning forwards. Bokuto grinned instantly at his boyfriend, pressing lips pliantly onto Akaashi’s. Kissing him back, Akaashi rested his right hand in Bokuto’s hair and draped his left arm over Bokuto’s shoulder, avoiding contact with his hand. Hands snaked up his back, pulling him closer magnetically, drawing him into the kiss.

“That’s better,” Akaashi teased lightly against Bokuto’s lip before kissing him _hard_. 

“AKAASSHI!” Bokuto beamed when they came up for air, scrunching his face up. Akaashi grinned. “You’re the best.”

“I am,” Akaashi agreed seriously, swinging his legs around. “Even better than you.”

“Yep,” Bokuto nodded readily. “Even me.”

Akaashi laughed. He stood up, stretching and gestured for Bokuto to follow. “Let’s close up.” 

Bokuto raced around the gym, claiming Akaashi couldn’t do any more work. He scooped up balls and put the net away, and Akaashi had to wonder, yet again, where Bokuto kept his endless surplus of energy. Lights shut off and the doors were locked as they finally exited the gym. 

Akaashi breathed in sharply at pocketing the key. Bokuto turned to him instantly, taking the hurt, taped fingers, and kissed them again. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi mumbled. 

Bokuto responded with another kiss, this one on his lips. 

Akaashi had to sit out for a few practices, instead coaching and working on strategies for the games. Every day after practice, Bokuto would kiss his hands feverishly, sad about him missing sets and practice drills. And even when Akaashi could take off the tape, and when his fingers healed completely, Bokuto made a habit of dropping kisses onto the setters fingers. Before games, in between sets, quick little kisses full of affection and appreciation for his pretty setter.

And sometimes, in response, Akaashi would press a kiss to his temple, or Bokuto’s fingers, or in rare instances, kiss his pretty ace vigorously until they both couldn’t breathe. After all, pretty kisses for a pretty couple. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty couple, am i right? 
> 
> akaashi is a little more exasperated with bokuto in this oneshot, something i picked up on the training camp when i watched it yesterday.
> 
> also, bokuto is more temperamental here but i'm not sure i like that way of interpreting his character. i've been trying to characterize them slightly differently with every one shot to get a better feel for them as people, and 3D personalities. anyway, 
> 
> the title quote is from lady midnight by cassandra clare. love emma and julian. 
> 
> thank you for reading :)


	8. “he loves you, really he does. he'd love you even if it destroyed him. he matches you.” - marie lu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mermen Akaashi and Bokuto explore a shipwreak, fight with cutlasses, and Akaashi utilizes his best weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merman au!
> 
> scales of intensity:
> 
> angst: 0/10  
> fluff: 8/10  
> lime/lemon: 1/10
> 
> enjoy!

“Over here, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says with a grin, peering over the bright coral reef. Bokuto flicks his blue tail, propelling himself to look over at where Akaashi is pointing. The shipwreck.

It’s huge, abandoned on the outskirts of the reef. Akaashi had spotted it while exploring for red algae, and had immediately gone to grab his mate. Or eventual mate, if we were talking technicalities. 

Bokuto turns to Akaashi with a thrilled smile stretching his face, pushing off the coral. He dives towards the decaying ship, his wake hitting Akaashi. Akaashi follows just as eagerly while admiring how mysterious the looming ship looks. 

The figurehead is a screaming girl, hair pulled back and mouth dropped in horror. Pieces of wood are missing from the hull, and gaping holes from cannonballs stare at Akaashi. Pirates for sure. Now, however, there’s no evidence there was ever life on board. The towering masts are graves for lads and ladies from long ago, a tribute to the sea and a sacrifice from humans’ destructive behaviour. 

Bokuto veers to the left, heading for an opening in the hull. It’s bigger than most, probably where the ship crashed into another. Akaashi comes to a stop before they go in, savouring the adventure curling in his stomach. 

“Ready?”

Bokuto salutes playfully, “Aye, captain.” He plunges into the ship. 

It’s not that dark, that’s the first thing Akaashi registers. Incremental sunlight beams through slats in the falling apart wood and there are currents in here. It’s almost peaceful, for such a haunted looking wreak. 

“Woah,” Bokuto gasps, both of their eyes adjusting to the luminosity. 

There are stacks and stacks of wooden boxes piling to the ceiling. Cargo. Akaashi drifts over to an open one, seeing shells of leather. 

“Books,” Akaashi confirms. No pages are left, and the leather seems to crumble under his touch. Bokuto’s fingers wind over the sides of boxes, shifting lids open and peeking inside. They’re all books, or what used to be books, regretfully degrading.

“Captain’s quarters?” Bokuto swims over to the door. Akaashi leaves the unfortunate boxes and nods. 

“I call dibs on the desk,” Akaashi calls like usual. He’s fascinated with the small trinkets, rusting compasses and tools used to charter maps. Bokuto loves the weaponry, cutlasses and spears of all shapes. 

“Fine. I call the swords,” Bokuto swims down the hallway. They pass cells with bars, probably used for prisoners. The bones are long gone, scattered in the sea or eaten by sea creatures. 

“For now,” Akaashi says, a promise in his voice. Bokuto turns around for a second, smiling at the challenge. 

“For now,” he matches. 

A fine layer of silt and sand covers the captain’s quarters. Akaashi swims in consciously, trying not to cause ripples. Bokuto’s already across the sloping room, poking around on a bench covered in metal. The captain’s quarters are grandiose, huge beams across glass windows and a luxurious amount of space for the size of the ship. 

Akaashi flicks his tail to float up to the desk, and lifts a hand to pull out the first drawer. It creaks, years of age welding it shut. With more force, Akaashi gets it open. 

It’s empty. Old papers were probably kept here, long gone. 

“Kaashi!” Bokuto calls, spinning around from the bench. “It’s one of those special cutlasses! The one you talked about before. A rapier?” The sword has an intricate handle, much more fine and delicate. 

“Yeah, one used for fights in super close quarters.” Akaashi swims up to it, curious. He runs a hand over the blade. It’s duller, skinny compared to the cutlass he picks up next and the one he throws to Bokuto. 

“En garde, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi falls into a defensive stance. Bokuto grins, steadying the blade. 

Akaashi lunges, Bokuto parrying and retaliating. Akaashi’s smiling at the metal clashing, his wrist flicking faster and faster to keep in tempo with Bokuto. There is something so fun about their sword fights, deep in the ocean with just them. 

Bokuto sweeps his tail under Akaashi’s and Akaashi takes off, using his skinny stature to slip through the broken windows. Water pushing against him, he sharply pivots to the deck and settles on the crow’s nest of the foremast. Akaashi stares challengingly at Bokuto. Bokuto doesn’t hesitate, leaping for him with his cutlass. Akaashi hits it aside, aiming a stab at Bokuto’s side. A flurry of attacks and counters ensue, Bokuto and Akaashi laughing a little at their wild dance.

“Try a little harder, would you?” Akaashi teases he obviously dodges Bokuto’s attack. 

“If you can keep up.” Bokuto almost nicks his chin. Akaashi flaps his tail at Bokuto, pushing him back with a current. 

“Hey!” Bokuto swims to close the distance, Akaashi already starting a sequence of moves he knows Bokuto struggles to dodge. 

“What was that about me keeping up?” Akaashi tilts his head innocently, Bokuto gritting his teeth in concentration. 

Grinning, Akaashi loops around to the mizzenmast and perches on top. Bokuto swims up to him, attacking with as much vigour Akaashi knows he kisses with. It’s so endearing and Akaashi decides he would die for the merman in front of him, contrary to the action of lunging for his heart with a sharp blade. They’re hovering above the ship, surrounded by flowing tides and endless ocean.

Stab, parry, lunge, overhead strike, feints, retreats, slashes. A whirlwind of metal and danger. 

“Got you.” Bokuto’s cold blade is pressing on the underside of his chin and into his neck. Akaashi resists the urge to float back, his own sword at his side. Bokuto’s victorious, his chest rising and falling. Pressing his lips to keep from grinning, Akaashi lowers his eyes submissively. 

Bokuto floats closer, using the cutlass to tilt Akaashi’s chin gently and meet his lowered eyes.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi questions with a soft smile.

“Drop your sword, kaashi.” A fight is only over when someone loses or drops their sword. Akaashi lifts his hands up in surrender, the blade sinking down to the shipwreck under them. Bokuto grins fully at this, starting to retract his own blade. 

Faster than any sword, Akaashi slams into Bokuto and utilizes his most deadly weapon. Kisses. 

Akaashi wraps a hand into his mate’s hair, intertwining their tails and yanking him close. Kissing him roughly, with passion and abandon. Bokuto lets out a startled noise, but kisses him back with just as much affection. Digging his nails into Bokuto’s back, Akaashi feels Bokuto pulling on his hair and winding his tail fins around Akaashi’s. Akaashi leans into Bokuto like he needs it.

Which he does. To pry away the cutlass from Bokuto’s malleable hands, and drop it so it’ll sink.

Satisfied, Akaashi pulls back and bops Bokuto on the nose with his own. 

“Got you.” 

Bokuto’s lips part in surprise and his gaze darts down to the sinking sword. He turns an accusing look onto Akaashi. Akaashi laughs, his arms still around Bokuto’s neck and their tails parallel. Bokuto huffs before rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he bops Akaashi’s nose again. Akaashi’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

Bokuto throws his head back, grinning before smothering Akaashi in a hug. “You’ve got me.” He says it romantically, honestly, like he’s saying the ocean is blue, or the sun will rise today, like it’s a fact.

“I’m yours too, you know,” Akaashi mumbles into Bokuto’s shoulder, and presses a kiss onto Bokuto’s clavicle. 

“Mine?” Bokuto strokes Akaashi’s hair, asking such an innocent and hopeful question. As if Akaashi actually had a choice, actually has a say in how astronomically much he loves the merman who's holding him, and he’s holding.

“Yeah,” Akaashi sighs ruefully. “Yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a lot of fun with this au today, shipwreaks and pirates are so much fun to write. i've toyed with the idea of a pirate au before but characterization is hard for me as it is, so that project is on the back burner until i improve. 
> 
> yes, i live vicariously through my characters. i'd love for someone to sword fight me and catch my chin with the edge of their blade. the air of romantic and sexual tension. albjhflakshgfalgsdkgfas.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> i got an insta! come join me: delta_trevino.45. i'll be posting headcannons or one shots like drabbles after fluff week is over :)
> 
> the quote title is from the third book, champion, in the series legend by marie lu. READ IT. 
> 
> i've been listening to Haikyuu Circulation for a longer time than is probably healthy. 
> 
> thank you for reading! love you guys.


	9. “true love is usually the most inconvenient kind.” ― kiera cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi the royal falconer and Bokuto, his childhood friend and misbehaving prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi y'all. 
> 
> so i was tempted to write a medieval royal au, generally going by the traditions of england because i'm more versed in those. 
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> scales of intensity:
> 
> angst: 2/10  
> fluff: 7.5/10  
> lemon/lime: 1.5/10

Akaashi shaded his eyes, glancing up. The ringing of the bell let him know his falcon, Maeve, was circling above and waiting for a signal. Sun drenched him in the royal courtyard, leaving Akaashi uncomfortably hot in his leather guard gloves and tunic. 

Whistling, Akaashi stuck his arm out and braced for impact. Maeve's talons dug into his leather-covered hands as she landed. She was a beauty, a short winged sparrowhawk with a speckled brown body and deep grey wings. 

Maeve’s sharp eyes turned towards the edge of the courtyard, where the shadow of a person was running towards them. Akaashi squinted, and instantly fell into a bow. 

“Bokuto-dono.” Akaashi kneeled on one knee, his head lowered and hiding a smile. 

“Akaashi!!” The prince grinned, coming to a stop in front of him and Maeve. “How many times do I have to tell you not to bow, it’s just me.” 

The _just me_ in question was the fourth prince in line for king, a national swordsman champion and Akaashi’s childhood friend. They’d both grown up at the castle, Bokuto learning politics and war tactics as Akaashi learned the art of falconry and hawking. 

“Also, don’t use dono.” Bokuto wrinkled his nose. “It makes me sound important.”

“With all due respect, you are a little important.” Akaashi rose from one knee, Maeve preening her wings. “Peasant.”

“AKAASHI!” Bokuto smiled, his embellished tunic flapping as he laughed. “You’re the best. No one else makes fun of me and it’s so boring. All this and that and “Of course, whatever you say Bokuto-dono”, and I don't like it. Of course it’s a bad idea to ask the kitchen staff for roasted quail at two in the morning or skip philosophy to spare with knights.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Akaashi murmured. Speaking this way was flirting with treason, Akaashi knew. But Bokuto’s grin, the little thrill that ran through him as Bokuto laughed joyously was worth the possibility of the guillotine. And he selfishly liked knowing he was the only one who could speak like that, having known Bokuto since they were ten.

“I know. That’s why I didn’t. How’s Maeve?” Bokuto hovered over the bird, who was still preening. 

“She’s good. I was worried about her after getting attacked by that fox, but her wing has healed nicely, if not stronger.” Their last hunting trip with the royals had rendered Maeve useless after a fox had bitten her wing. Akaashi had spent hours tending to it with a mixture of yarrow and mercury.

“I’m glad.” Bokuto watched the bird tenderly. Akaashi knew Maeve wasn’t his favourite, but Bokuto appreciated all the birds. He came to the falconry barn often, watching Akaashi bond, train or maintain the raptors. It was the third time he had come this week, and the third time unsolicited. Bokuto was supposed to be duly entertaining a possible wife, a neighbouring kingdom princess.

“Would you like to go see the other raptors? Sora and Daiki could go for a flight,” Akaashi prompted. 

“Of course! Anything with you sounds good.” Akaashi turned his head away. Bokuto loved the birds of prey, watching them hunt or stretch their wings guided by Akaashi with great fascination. As they headed across the courtyard, Akaashi wondered if Bokuto knew he gave off the impression of a bird. Especially when he tilted his head in confusion, or blinked with wide eyes at something Akaashi said. 

In the falconry free loft barn, a barn where the birds could fly around, mew wooden cubicles for each raptor covered the wall. Akaashi lifted up Maeve’s door, tucking her in and rewarding her with a morsel of food from his pouch. Akaashi opened a different door and whistled another tune, one for Daiki, and the male red tail hawk settled on his arm.

“Hi Daiki.” Bokuto watched the small tercel clench around Akaashi’s fingers and wait for instruction. 

“I know,” Akaashi said to the hawk, recognizing the look for “I want food.” 

“What are you doing today?” Bokuto asked curiously as they walked back to the field. 

“I think Daiki could benefit from some luring practice. He’s been a little out of sorts.” Akaashi unlooped his swing lure, a rope with prey on it. Bokuto watched him as if he hadn’t seen this hundreds of times before. 

“Ready?” Akaashi dropped his arm before throwing it into the air, Daiki lungeing off of it and spreading his wings. He was a longwing, Akaashi’s first personal bird during his apprenticeship. Circling in the air, Akaashi watched him as he held the lure handle in his left hand and started to lasso with his right.

Daiki dived, Akaashi using the lure to lead him in different directions. The hawk swooped back up naturally, in his hunting state. Fiercely natural and beautiful.

“Kaashi?” Bokuto fidgeted. They were back in the free loft, Akaashi just having put away Daiki. 

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi turned towards him, routinely storing his lure and glove. He looked at the prince, fiddling with his fingers that felt too light without a bird.

Akaashi got his answer with the look Bokuto gave him. Searing longing and asking. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi chided, trying to hide the mirroring in his own eyes. “You’re hosting a prospect suitress as we speak. 

“Akaashiiiiii.” Bokuto whined softly and reached out, pulling on Akaashi’s sleeve. “Please.”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi fixed his gaze on the hand tugging on his shirt. 

“One.” Bokuto pulled, his eyes begging. Akaashi cursed himself before glancing around once, twice, three times before nodding slightly. 

“One,” he said forcefully and headed towards the back door. Outside, a few steps along the wall. Bokuto’s steps crunched behind him, and Akaashi halted once they were obscured by the trees. Leaves brushed his arms, grass tickling his ankles and the boy in front of him closing the distance. 

“Hey,” Bokuto whispered with an air of happiness. Akaashi’s back hit against the barn wall. 

“Hi,” Akaashi breathed, only inches between them. Bokuto lifted a hand up, cupping Akaashi’s chin with admiration.

Bokuto looked at him, still asking. 

Akaashi sighed with a smile. “Hi Kou.”

Soft lips met his, gentle and full of so much care. Bokuto kissed him tenderly, his other hand wrapping around Akaashi’s waist. Akaashi kissed back, trying desperately to show how much he absolutely loved the prince without breaking the fragility. The innocence, such sweetness in such a treacherous action. 

Akaashi pulled back first, like usual, Bokuto opening his half-lidded eyes and smiling. “Thank you kaashi.” Sunlight scintillated around Bokuto, the prince’s arms still resting on Akaashi’s cheek and his waist. 

“Of course.” Akaashi reached up, brushing Bokuto’s messy hair behind his ears as delicately as he could. Bokuto let his arms drop, pulling away from Akaashi and Akaashi felt the familiar panic. The panic that, right now, right here is the last time he’ll be able to touch Bokuto this way, to touch Bokuto at all. The panic Bokuto wouldn’t be able to come back because he’ll be married to some nobody, he’ll leave for battle and won’t return, he’ll stop touching Akaashi like Akaashi holds the sun. 

Normally, Akaashi didn’t act on the panic. He normally shoved it down, breathed in and out until he’s okay to let Bokuto go again. Normally. 

But it was overwhelming today, maybe with the suitress over, or the looming future, or just the way Bokuto was looking at him. 

So Akaashi grabbed Bokuto and shoved him around, reversing their positions. Bokuto let out a startled gasp, Akaashi slamming him into the barn and grabbing him by the face again. 

There went the idea of just one kiss. 

Akaashi pressed his lips onto Bokuto’s, selfishly hoping to bruise them into his, selfishly hoping Bokuto wouldn’t mind Akaashi imprinting on his cheek or his nose, because Bokuto had already left footprints on his heart. 

Hands pressed him closer on his back, liquid sunlight running through his veins, Akaashi breathing in as much of Bokuto as he could. Bokuto kissed him back feverishly. Kissing and kissing and kissing because this very well could be the end of their happily ever after. 

Bokuto mumbled something against Akaashi’s lips. 

“What?” Akaashi pulled back. Bokuto’s lips were a little swollen, his face flushed and eyes bright. 

“ ‘minlovewithyou.” 

Akaashi thought his heart stopped, his lips parting. Despite Bokuto saying that every moment he could, it never failed to fluster Akaashi. And draw his attention to the fact they could never tack on a forever to anything. How cruel.

“I love you, Akaashi Keiji,” Bokuto said slowly, each word heavy with meaning. Akaashi sunk his face into Bokuto’s shoulder, breathing heavily. 

“I love you too, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispered. _I love you how thunder loves lightning, how danger loves swords, how fate loves cruelty and heartbreak. But until fate comes for us, I will love you like we have the entire world for ourselves._

And it was so beautiful, how Bokuto could hold him here and press palms into his back. Could breathe the same air Akaashi could, touch the same leaves Akaashi had, to exist together was miraculous and Akaashi wanted the world to halt. To freeze, so he and Bokuto could just linger here forever. 

Instead, Akaashi buried his face in Bokuto’s shoulder more, hugging him tighter and tighter. As if to anchor them together. 

“Hey, hey don’t hide your face.” Bokuto pushed Akaashi back a little, staring into his eyes. Akaashi smiled at his prince, mutely professing his love again and again. 

“It’s just me,” Bokuto grinned. 

The _just me_ in question was Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi’s childhood friend and without a doubt, love of his life. So Akaashi kissed him again and again, because while it was highly probable this could be the end of their happily ever after, there was a slim chance it was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is diabetically fluffy imo. 
> 
> thank you for sticking around, i'm kind of sad bokuaka week is ending tomorrow. but i'm excited too for the free day tomorrow. see y'all!


	10. "the world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that (s)he was alive." - rick riordan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Akaashi loves Bokuto. And of course, Bokuto loves him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scales of intensity:
> 
> angst: 1/10  
> fluff: 9/10  
> lemon/lime: 2.5/10
> 
> enjoy today's serving of fluff!

Akaashi finished his water bottle, tired from their exhibition game against Shinzen. They’d just won by a fraction, Komi going all out with his receiving work. The rest of the team was greeting a handful of students who had come to watch, cleaning up or stretching. Bokuto was animatedly explaining to a poor girl the rules of a libero tossing from the attack line. 

Sighing, Akaashi joined Yukie and Kaori, their managers, who were looking over stats for the game and notes about their plays in a notebook. 

“So the third arrangement wasn’t successful?” Akaashi pointed out, eyeing the tallies of successful and unsuccessful. For the quickly approaching prelims, Akaahi had drafted some new strategies to try.

“Only 67% this game, 73% overall.” Yukie flipped to their overall tallies, from every combination that had tried this season. Akaashi debated whether they should keep it in. He was analyzing it when footsteps marching towards him made him look up. 

“Akaashi Keiji?” It was a girl in front of their bench, a crescent smile and cute braids. 

“Yes?” Akaashi stood up, shooting a glance at Yukie and Kaori. Their friend? Yukie shook her head incrementally. 

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute please?” The girl tapped her foot, nervous. She was in the school uniform, a little shorter than Akaashi with a surfer figure. Akaashi recognized her from AP Biology, named Reiko maybe?

“Of course,” Akaashi said graciously, falling into step with her. 

“I watched Fukurodani play,” the girl spoke steadily, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ears. “You guys are so strong.” 

“Thank you. Although it’s really my teammates that are the strong ones.” They were on the other side of the gym, in the open doorway to outside when the girl stopped. 

“Mm,” she responded, preoccupied. Akaashi wasn’t stupid, it appeared like she was going to confess or ask him out. Dread coiled in his stomach and he resisted the urge to run across the gym to his boyfriend and leap into his arms. Just be public like every other couple so Akaashi wouldn’t get confessed too, and so Bokuto didn’t have to worry about everyone trying to set him up. 

“Please accept my feelings!” The girl spoke harshly, loudly, falling into a tense bow. The gym faded into a hum, some heads turning. Akaashi felt a very familiar set of eyes fall onto him. “You’re so kind, helping me study and sharing your notes in Biology. Watching you play volleyball is pretty amazing, the amount of control and skill you have is admirable. I think we’d make a good pair, and I’ve liked you since the beginning of school. Please go on a date with me, Akaashi.” The girl was clenching her fists, staring into the ground and visibly shaking.

Akaashi shook his head with regret, knowing she might cry or yell at him. “I’m sorry.” He put a hand on her shoulder to soften the blow. “I’m not looking to date right now. I’m very flattered at your feelings but I can’t return them.” 

The girl rose, eyes closed and she took a deep breath. Exhaling, she nodded. Now that Akaashi could see her, he noticed yes, she was pretty. Not as pretty as his boyfriend perhaps, but pretty to the extent tomorrow he’d get harassed by other guys for making her upset. 

“Thank you for hearing me out.” The girl grasped his hand for a second, squeezing it tightly and then letting it go.

“Of course,” Akaashi said affirmatively. She painfully mustered a smile and then walked out of the gym. Akaashi turned towards the club room, unable to face everyone watching him from inside. 

Sitting on the club chairs in the room, Akaashi pressed a hand to his forehead. That was the third confession this month, and Akaashi wondered how long it would be before he just assaulted Bokuto’s lips with his in front of the entire universe. He despised turning people down, knowing he was the reason for pinning and unrequited feelings. And he always felt uncomfortable, because yes, he was with Bokuto, and very happy about that, thank you very much. 

“Kaashi?” White and black hair appeared in the doorway, Bokuto peeking into the club room. 

“Hi,” Akaashi smiled at his boyfriend of five months, the brightest and most fierce part of the cosmos as far as Akaashi was concerned. 

“Are you okay?” Bokuto walked over to him, sliding so they were next to each other on the bench. Thighs pressed together, Akaashi sighed into Bokuto wrapping an arm around him, a half hug and half reassurance saying  _ I’m here.  _

“Yes, I just,” Akaashi said frustratedly. He breathed. “I’m good.”

Bokuto pressed a ghost of his lips onto Akaashi’s head, nuzzling his hair. “Okay kaashi. Tell me if I can do anything.” 

“Mmkay,” Akaashi leaned into his embrace. “Thank you.” 

“As you would say, of course.” 

“KAASHIII!” Bokuto leapt onto Akaashi, pelting his face with pillows and smothering him in a blanket. Akaashi laughed as Bokuto squirmed against him on the couch, trying to get comfy. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi laughed, trying to adjust too. They were at Akaashi’s house, just cuddling and talking, humouring the idea of a movie. 

“Come here.” Bokuto grabbed Akaashi by his legs and tried to unsuccessfully haul Akaashi over and into his lap. Akaashi watched his legs fall back down, laughed once and then he patterned over to Bokuto’s arms. Sitting in his lap, Akaashi crossed his legs tight to his body and looked up to Bokuto. He was the quiet type of beautiful and Akaashi was one of the more lucky ones, being allowed to see it.

“Kaashi.” Bokuto had one hand loosely wrapped around Akaashi’s body and another snuck to grab his hand. 

“Yes?” 

Bokuto opened his mouth, closed it again, and opened it again. “Kaashi.” 

“Mmhmm,” Akaashi tilted his head, blinking up at his ace. 

He mumbled something. 

“Bokuto-san, you have to speak up. I can’t read minds.” Akaashi played with their hands in front of him, running a thumb over Bokuto’s knuckles and pressing each one of his fingers onto the back of Bokuto’s palm individually.

“Kaashi,” Bokuto said stubbornly. 

“Yes Kou?” Akaashi said, staring him in the face softly. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bokuto asks, clearly what he wasn’t thinking of originally. Despite that, Akaashi’s breath hitched like usual and he nodded. 

“Course.” He tugged on Bokuto’s hand to bring them closer. 

“Like really, really kiss you?” Bokuto stopped for a second, lips forming words that Akaashi had to seriously focus on since he really wanted to embrace them, kiss them because he could.

“Yes,” Akaashi breathed seriously. “Yes.” 

Bokuto looked at him miraculously, appearing as if Akaashi had placed something precious in his custody. And then Akaashi felt Bokuto grab the bottom of his back, sweep Akaashi towards him roughly and kiss him. Really kiss him, kiss him like there was nothing to lose and everything to gain. Lips crushed into his, Bokuto closing the space until they were fusing together. There was a little curvature against Bokuto that Akaashi fit against perfectly, and it was a little wondrous how well they could fit together.

Bokuto leaned into Akaashi, Akaashi sinking down onto his back and reaching up to tangle Bokuto’s hair. 

“Keiji,” Bokuto whispered almost reverently, lining his jaw with rough kisses. “Keiji.” 

Kiss. 

“Keiji.” 

Kiss.

“Keiji” 

Kisses against his neck, shoulder, every single inch Bokuto could reach with his lips. Akaashi shuddered as Bokuto bit his neck, lips scraping his skin and insistent kisses following every bite. Their breath was mixing, filling the room and Akaashi’s lungs filled with something like oxygenized joy and want. 

“Keiji,” Bokuto murmured as he worked on Akaashi’s jaw, nipping at it and breathing shakily. Akaashi sighed so many times, carding his hands through Bokuto’s hair and his heartbeat syncing up with the pulses of admiration flowing from both of them.

“Keiji.”

“Keiji, Keiji, Keiji.” 

“Kou.” Akaashi pulled him down after drawing a shuddering breath. He pushed Bokuto onto his side so they were both lying on the couch parallel, and hooked a leg around Bokutos’.

Akaashi bopped him on the nose with his lips, lingering there. Bokuto gazed back sweetly, a little intoxicated by kissing and a little flushed. 

“Kou,” Akaashi began, whispering like a kid. “What’s going on today?” He didn't want to sound accusatory, just curious. 

“Nothing,” Bokuto squirmed. Akaashi levelled him with a look. Communication was important in a relationship. 

“Wait.” Akaashi got a little inclination in the back of his head. “Are you, are you being jealous?”

Bokuto was fairly good at not being jealous or possessive despite his moods. He was surprisingly mature when it came to this relationship, saying he was serious about Akaashi and wouldn’t allow Akaashi to think anything else. 

Bokuto opened his mouth and closed it. “It’s just, you’re mine and I don’t want other people saying they like you or asking to date you, you’re mine,” he rushed quietly, flushing. 

“Ahh. You’re being possessive then.” Akaashi felt a small lump of happiness and adoration bloom, he liked Bokuto wanting Akaashi to be his. 

“Well I don’t want to be mean to that girl cause I understand. You’re just so pretty,” Bokuto wrinkled his nose. “But you’re also amazing and sweet and so talented and kaashi she was telling you all these nice things I wanted to say.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed through a smile. “You don’t have to worry about that. Or her.” 

“Yeah I just,” Bokuto whispered. He twitched closer, involuntarily trying to bring them closer than molecules would allow. “I just love you and you’re mine.” 

Akaashi grinned, kissing Bokuto long and slow. As if they had all the time in the world. 

“I love you too.” 

They watched each other for a few seconds, treasuring the other person like only the little couch they were on really mattered. 

“Is that why you’ve been saying my name so much?” Akaashi murmured.

“Yeah.” Bokuto chewed on his lip. “I don’t know, I like being able to call you Keiji.”

Akaashi grinned, pressing another languid kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. 

“Is that okay?” Bokuto asked, in between kissing Akaashi’s cheek so lightly it felt like a feather. So light, and affectionate, and so perfect Akaashi couldn’t ever contemplate spending the rest of his life with anyone else except the boy he was dearly in love with.

“Yes Kou,” Akaashi smiled. “Of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love them so much. 
> 
> it's the last day of the bokuaka week 2020. asdfasdf. i am very sad and very happy. just bokuaka. emotions. i feel like it got super metaphorical at the end because of that. 
> 
> thank you very much for sticking around for the ride!
> 
> love you :)


End file.
